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A  Li  T  H  i   f 


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G.  T.   LOWTH,   Esq. 

AI'TiroR    OF    ••  TFIK    WANDJ-KKR    IN    ARABIA."    FTr 


LONDON: 

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^  CHAPTER  I. 

^  Charms  of  Moscow— Growth  and  Progress  of  the  City— Hostile  Inva- 
sions—Successful Defence  of  Moscow -St.  Petersburg  a  Town  of 
Yt^stenlay— The  Invasion  of  1812— Impressions  on  entering  the  old 
Muscovite  Capital— Its  Position -The  Moskwa-The  Sparrow  HiUs 
-1  articB  of  Pleasure- View  of  the  City-The  Battle  of  Borodino 
— \\  ho  were  the  Victors  ?— A  Proud  Moment  for  Napoleon -Wihia 
— Energy  of  the  Russian  Defence-Napoleon  in  the  Palace  of 
Feterhoff— Remarkable  Contrast— Humiliation  of  the  Invaders— 
Retreat  of  the  French— Dispersion  and  Destruction  of  the  Grand 
Army — Moscow  Avenged ^ 

CHAPTER  II. 

Extent  of  Moscow-The  Kremlin-The  Kitai  Gorod,  or  Chinese  Town 
—streets  and  Boulevards— Moscow  contrasted  with  other  Great 
Cities— A  City  of  Cottages— House  of  a  Russian  Nobleman- The 
1  easant  s  Cottage— General  Appearance  of  the  City— Walk  from 
the  Palanka  Square— Broad  and  Noisy  l^horoughfare-Country  Life 
m  the  City-^Quiet  Streets-Pleasant  Houses  and  their  Tenants- 
A  1  rofessional  IV  usician-Russian  Churches— Novel  and  Picturesque 
Appearance  of  the  Streets-Scenes  of  Russian  Life-Beautiful  Little 
Church-Aristocratic  Street-Change  in  Russian  Society-New 
Quarter  of  the  Noblesse j     x^cw 

CHAPTER  m. 

The  Kremlin-The  External   Wall  and  Towers-The  Moskwa^Fine 
LspUma^le,  and  \  lew  from  it-An  Historical  Question— ^Ihe  Nichol- 

.{•  ^H-^^f  "P^T  ^7  the  Emperor  Alexander-Russian  Super- 
stition-1  he  Arsenal-New  Law  Courts  and  Government  Offices- 

rrophies  of  the  Campaign  of  1812-Unnecessary  Precaution-The 
^l  -l^e  Imperia  Palace-The  Sacred  Gateway-The  Towers 
Til  'J'.^^  J7^»7^^1^ki-The  -Czar  Kolokol "-Panoramic  View 
of  the  (^ity-Cxreat  Number  of  Churches  and  Cupolas— Old  Resi- 
^^^f  7.U  H,  ^o^anoffs-Ancient  Palace  of  the  Ruriks-National 
1  ride  ot  the  Russians  •         •         .         .         .  94 

CHAPTER  ir. 

The  Present  Emperor-The  Emperor  Nicholas-Entrance  into  Moscow 
by  the  St  Petersburg  Road— Ihe  Emperor^s  Route— Chapel  of  the 
T'\~  ^^^'''^\  V\^\.xxx^  of  the  Iberian  Mother— Bonds  of  S™- 
pathy  between  the  Empf^or  and  the  People  of  Moscow-His  Ortho- 
ciox  Fiety— His  Appreciation  of  Kalatsch— The  Palace  of  the 
Lmpress-Devotion  to  the  -  Iberian  Mother^'-Daily  Scenes  at  her 
hhrine— Sum  annually  collected  by  Voluntary  Offerinirs- Visits  of 

—An  Act  of  Sacrilege— The  Criminal  and  her  Punishment  36 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CONTENTS. 


VU 


CHAPTER   V. 

A  Walk  in  Moscow  and  its  Environs— Church  of  St.  Sauveur — Curious 
Little  Chapel— Cavalry  Barracks — Inconvenient  Position  of  the 
Horses  in  the  Stables — Something  like  a  Personal  Affront — Culti- 
vation of  a  small  Gourcl  used  by  the  Russians — Women  at  Work — 
A  Russian  Gardener  and  his  Subonlinates — The  Devitchei  Convent 
—The  External  Wall  and  Towers— The  Church,  Bell  Tower,  &c.— 
Burial  Places — The  Congregation  and  Service — The  ''  Queteuse" — 
Dispersion  of  the  Congregation — '^  Une  Affaire  Tenebreuse" — The 
Papa 53 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  CoW  of  Northern  Russia — Cattle  let  out  to  Pasture — A  Cow  on 
its  way  Home — Climate  and  Productions  of  Little  or  Southern 
Russia— The  Extent  of  Moscow— The  Thief  Market— The  Police 
of  Moscow — Robberies  and  Burglaries — Purchasers  of  Stolen  Goods 
— Scenes  of  Real  Life  in  Russia — Men  of  the  ^Market — Speculating 
in  Old  Clothes—  Ingenious  Thieves  and  Ingenuous  Victims — Sale  of 
Stolen  Goods — Not  for  the  Market — Russian  Character — A  Ilard- 
won  Victory .         69 

CHAPTER  Vn. 

Beds  in  Hotels — Rapid  Improvement — Russian  Noblemen  on  their 
Travels  in  Former  Days — Change  produced  by  Railways — M. 
Dusaux's  Hotel  and  Cuisine — Interior  of  a  Russian  Hotel — View 
from  my  Window  on  the  Boulevard — Carriages — The  Public 
Rooms — Russian  Waiters — Devotional  Character  of  the  People — 
Scene  at  Wilna — National  Costume — Property  held  by  Serfs — A 
Cossack  Chief — Peasants  on  their  way  to  Market — Riding  and 
Driving — A  Carriage  of  Primitive  Construction — Adventure  with  a 
*^  Spider" 86 

CHAPTER  Vm. 

The  Foundling  Hospital — Extent  and  Purpose  of  the  Establishment — 
Crown  Governesses — Russian  Capacity  for  Governing — A  Sunday 
Visit  to  the  Hospital — The  Buildings  and  Grounds — Internal  Ar- 
rangements— Courtesy  of  an  Official — The  Chapel — The  Pupils  in 
Uniform — ^"llie  Service — Tlie  Priest — The  Responses — The  Nurseries 
— Costume  of  the  Nurses — The  Superintendents — Messengers,  Ser- 
vants, and  Attendants — The  Nurses  at  Dinner — Number  of  Orphans 
received  daily — Another  Visit  to  the  Chapel — The  Choir — 'Tlie 
Papa— Theatrical  Manner  of  the  Russo-Greek  Priests — The  Gallery 
of  Paintings — The  Play  Room      • 105 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Count  L His  Proficiency  in  the  English  Language — Invited  to 

visit  his  Estate — Journey  in  a  Tarantass — Social  Courtesy — Agri- 
culture in  Russia — Russian  Villages — The  Cottages  of  the  Peasantry 
— Family  Party — The  Law  of  Inheritance — Large  Families — 'i'he 
Subdivision  of  Property — Reduced  Nobles — The  Abolition  of  Serf- 
dom— Russian  Soldiers— Nobles  and  Serfs — Abuse  of  Power — Ar- 
rangement of  the  House — Grooms  and  Horses  v.  Wife  and  Children 
— South  Downs — Horses  and  Cattle — Rotation  of  Crops — Extensive 
Ganlens — Reminiscences  of  the  Count — The  Family  Roof-tree — 
Impromptu  Dinner  in  the  Wood 129 


CHAPTER  X. 

Return  to  Moscow— The  Count's  Tarantass  and  Three  Marea— The 
Coachman — Effect  of  Freedom  on  the  Russian  Peasantry — Unsettled 
State  of  the  Country — A  Nobleman's  Mansion — Appearance  of  the 
Country— High-road&— Free  and  Easy  Bathing— A  Russian  Inn- 
Passion  for  Tea— Domestic  Arrangements— The  Great  House  Stove 
— "  Gone  to  Bed" — Vodka— Curious  Illustration  of  Russian  Police 
Law— Law  of  Trover— Piety  and  Pilfering— The  Difficulties  of 
Driving — Safe  on  the  Pave i5g 

CHAPTER  XL 

TheTwerskaia— The  Palace  of  Count  Rostopchin— The  Great  Radiating 
Streets  of  Moscow— The  St.  Petersburg  Gateway— The  Promenade 
—The  Carriage  Drivers— The  '^  West  End"  of  Moscow— ACompanion 
at  my  alfresco  Luncheon— Russian  Children  of  the  Upper  Classes 
—Life  of  Young  Gentlemen— The  Petrofski  Palace— The  Main 
Edifice  and  Detached  Buildings— The  Baffled  Conqueror— An 
Officer  and  his  Wife— MiHtary  Exercises— Russian  Soldiers  and 
Officers— The  Moscow  World  in  the  Petrofski  Park— Tea  under  the 
Elms  ••.....  173 

CHAPTER  XIL 

The  Paving  of  Moscow— Trial  of  Wood  and  of  Stone  Flags— Ornamental 
ViUas— Houses  erected  by  Government— Road-making  in  Russia— 
Ihe  Agricultural  College— The  Officer  appointed  to  conduct  me 
over  the  Establishment— The  Cow  Stables— Dutch  and  Swiss  Cattle 
—Steam  Engines  and  Machinery— Farm  Horses— The  Farm- 
Museum,  Library,  and  Lecture  Rooms— How  the  Property  was 
acquired  by  Government— An  Apothecarv  who  made  a  good  iob 
of  It— Russian  Employes— Church  of  the  College— A  Russian  Re- 
freshment—Restaurant on  the  Kitai  Boulevard— Change  in  the 
Education  of  Young  Nobles ]  93 

CHAPTER   Xm. 

llie  Convent  Simonoff-Extent  and  Wealth  of  the  EstabUshment  in 
Former  Times-Day  of  St.  Sergius,  and  Fair  at  the  Convent- 
Superb  BeU-tower-Varieties  of  Cost imie- Young  Gamblers- 
Interior  of  the  SimonoflF-The  Superior-IIis  Reception  by  the 
Crowd--  Devoured  with  Kisse8"-The  Church-Earnest  Devotion 
u  AT^  .^'T^yi^Z  ^'''''^  }^  BeU-tower— Disappearance  of  my 
^it^^^T^f  Af  f '''^  ^^^r-^^^  ^^^*^  proper-Tea-drinking 
Booths-Sale  of  Melons  and  Honey-Beggars-Organ- Grinders-^ 
l?emale  Shop-keepers  of  Moscow— Chorus-singing       .         .       210 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Kitai  Gorod-The  Bazaare-Their  Great  Extent-The  Shop-keepers 
-1  laying  at  Draughts-Commerce  in  '^  the  Rows"-^ewish  Money- 
dealers— The  Balance  of  Trade— Drain  and  Hoarding  of  the  Pre- 
cious Metals-Exhaustion  produced  by  the  Crimean  War-Com- 
parative Value  of  Silver  and  Paper  Roubles-Prevalence  of  Forgery 
--Cunosities  of  Russian  Finance-Objections  to  War  on  the  Part 

li    "^li^r^^"^? ^  ."^^  *^^  ^^^"  ^^^y  ^^  Fanaticism  of  the  Re- 
hgious  Party— Questionable  Practices  .         .         .         .231 

^.  .  CHAPTER  XV. 

Visit  to  Nijni  Novgorod-Travelling  in  Russia  in  Old  Times -Carriages 


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CONTENTS. 


on  Russian  Railways — Persistent  Smokers — The  Passion  for  Tea- 
Convenient  Arrangement — My  First  Impression  of  Nijni — Peculi- 
arities of  the  Fair — Affluence  of  Foreign  Merchants— 'J'he  Chinese 
Row  —life  of  the  Merchants  during  the  Fair — Roads  in  Russia — 
Cossacks — Magnificent  View  from  the  Plateau — Vessels  in  the 
River — Former  Importance  of  Xijni — Curious  Story  relating  to  the 
Sacred  Bell  of  Nijni — En  Gargon  at  the  Fair — A  Russian  recherche 
Dinner— Visit  to  the  landlord's  Fish -Wells— The  Tea-Stores— 
Shops  and  Shopping — A  Noble  and  his  Wife — Decline  of  Nijni  245 

riTAT'Trn  xvi. 

Profligacy  of  Russian  Nobles —Extenuating  Circumstances— Benevolence 
of  the  Higher  Orders — 'Hie  Galitzin  and  Foundling  Hospitals — Visit 
to  Hospital  founded  by  the  Sheremaytieff  Family— The  Building, 
Apartments,  and  Gardens — Noble  Endowment — The  Dining  Hall — 
Inmates— The  Sick,  Maime<l,  and  Blind— Friendless  Old  Men— The 
Women's  Apartments — Anecdotes  and  Portraits — Apartments  for 
the  Sick— General  Hospital— The  Governor's  Room— Distribution 
of  Money  ip  Pensioners — Conversation  with  the  Governor — Sum 
annually  expended  by  the  Hospital — Societe  Fraternelle — Noble  Side 
of  the  Russian  Character 


273 


CHAPTER  XVTT. 


Visit  to  the  Convent  of  Troitsa — Its  Foundation,  Destruction,  and  Re- 
establishment — Historical  Reminiscences  connected  with  the  Convent 
— Napoleon's  Attempt  to  seize  the  Building  and  its  Treasures — The 
Patriarch  Philarete's  First  Railway  Journey — ^The  Town,  the  Valley, 
and  the  Convent — Agricultural  I^abour  done  by  Women  —The  Col- 
lege and  Churches  of  Vefania — Residence  of  the  Metropolitan  Pla- 
ton — Old  Church — Representation  of  the  Blount  of  Olives — Valuable 
Paintings — The  Tomb  of  Platon — The  Church  of  Gethsemane — An 
P^clesiastical  Diversion  or  Feint — Appearance  of  the  Metropolitan — 
A  Singular  Monastery — Fanaticism  in  the  Russo- Greek  Church — 
Recluses  in  Underground  Cells — Religion  and  Usefulness       .       293 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  New  Investment  for  the  Money  of  Plonks — The  Walls  of  the  Monas- 
tery— Spacious  Promenade — Interesting  Serving  Monk — Interior 
of  the  Church — Gaudy  Paintings — Restoration  of  Frescoes  by  an  En- 
thusiastic Merchant — An  Ill-advised  Monk — Sale  of  Holy  Water — 
The  Day  of  St.  Serge— The  Baker's  Shop— ITie  Catheflral— Sale  of 
Candles,  Images,  and  Oil — Rich  Display  of  Pictures,  Gold,  Silver, 
and  Precious  Stones — The  Treasury — Dining  Hall  of  the  Monks — 
Primitive  Hospitality — The  Hospital — The  Dying  Monks — The 
(Jreek  Monk — Differences  in  ^lonkish  Life —The  Bloodstaintxi 
Tower — A  Monk's  Cell — Ecclesiastical  Academy  .         .313 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Administration  of  Justice — Bribery  in  some  cases  Discountenancefl — The 
Bureaucracy — Causes  of  the  Low  Morale  of  Public  Officials — Insuf- 
ficient Salaries — No  Public  Opinion— Frequenters  of  the  Hotel  Du- 
saux— A  Sign  of  the  Times— The  Levelling  Process— language  of 
the  Upper  Classes— Intolerance  at  the  Opera— Native  Literature — 
llie  Works  of  Lermontoff,  Pouchkine,  &c.— (irowth  of  National 
Sentiment — Serfdom  and  Freeilom— New  State  of  Things— Rise  of 
a  National  History,  Drama,  Fiction,  ami  Music     .         .         .       338 


AitUiJND    THE    KRE 


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X. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Charms  of  Moscow— Growth  and  Progress  of  the  City— Hostile  Inva- 
sions—Successful Defence  of  ]\foscow— St.  Petersburg  a  Town  of 
Yesterday— The  Invasion  of  1812— Impressions  on  entering  the  old 
Muscovite  Capital— Its  Position -The  Moskwa— The  Sparrow  Hills 
—Parties  of  Pleasure— View  of  the  City— The  Battle  of  Borodino 
—Who  were  the  Victors  ?— A  Proud  Moment  for  Xapoleon— Wilna 
—Energy  of  the  Russian  Defence— Napoleon  in  the  Palace  of 
Peterhoff— Remarkable  Contrast— Humiliation  of  the  Invaders- 
Retreat  of  the  French— Dispersion  and  Destruction  of  the  Grand 
Army — Moscow  Avenged. 

rpHERE  is  a  charm  peculiar  to  Moscow  among  the 
-^  cities  of  the  world.  It  is  in  itself  the  centre  of 
the  history  of  a  people— a  people  one  day  fated  to 
play  a  great  part  in  the  drama  of  the  future.  But  at 
present  the  charm  of  Moscow  is  in  its  past  story  and 
in  its  present  life.  The  interest  of  the  past  story  of 
the  city  arises  out  of  its  peculiar  position  as  the  con- 
necting  link  between  the  East  and  the  West.  In  this 
Its  situation  is  something  analogous  to  that  of  Con- 
stantinople, standing  upon  the  confines  of  two  divis- 


l\^ 


2  MOSCOW. 

ions  of  the  earth,  and  thus  it  lias  had  to  bear  the  dis- 
cords of  different  races  and  to  be  the  scene  of  the 
conflicts  of  opposing  peoples.     Moscow  grew  up  from 
a  collection  of  small  villages  to   a  town  in  tlie  midst 
of  warring  and  half  barbarous  tribes  ;  and  thus,  as  it 
increased  in  concentration,   and  therefore   in  import- 
ance, it  was  sometimes  attacked  by  Polish  forces  from 
the  west,  partly  with  the  ambitious  object  of  the  so- 
vereigns of  Warsaw  to  extend  their  possessions  east- 
ward over  the  Muscovite  plains,  and  partly  out  of 
fear   of  the  threatening  increase  of  strength  of  the 
populations  accumulating  on  their  exposed  and  east- 
ern border.     At  other  times  the  country  round  was 
invaded  from  the  east,  and  Tartar  hordes  came  up  in 
overwhelming  masses  to  the  walls,  and  bursting  over 
them  devoted  the  unhappy  place  to  sack  and  pilhige. 
These  latter  were  actuated  by  no  motives  such  as 
those  which  led  the  Poles  up  to  the  gates  of  Moscow 
— motives   of  possession   and    increase    of    national 
strength.     These  were  only  lured  from    their  tents 
and  their  wild  plains  on   the  Don  by  the  hopes  of 
plunder  and  the  gratification  of  their  instincts  of  de- 
struction.    But  the  hardy  sons  of  Muscovy,  thougli 
often  beaten  by  the  Poles,  and  frequently  despoiled 
bv  the  Tartar  hordes,  yet  rose  from  their  defeats  in 


INVASION  0¥  1812.  5 

renewed  strength,  as  Antasus  from  his  mother  earth, 
until,   becoming  the  nucleus  of  a  nation,  they  were 
able  to  beat  off  their  enemies  both  on  the  east  and  on 
the  west,   and,  becoming  the  victors  in  the  place  of 
the  vanquished,   they  threw  back  the  armies  of  Po- 
land on  the  one  side  and  the  horsemen  of  the  Don 
on  the -other,  and  following  the  rule  of  the  law  of  the 
strong  and  the  weak  they  forced  all  their  former  ene- 
mies to  submission.     It  is  thus  in  and  around  Mos- 
cow that  tlie  story  of  Russia  is  to  be  read.    St.  Peters- 
burg is  but  tlie  modern  town  of  yesterday.     It  is  as 
yet  but  the  port  of  Russia,  an  imperfect  city,   and 
bearing  in  all  its  accessories  the  marks  of  a  new  town. 
Even  Peter  could  not  make  at  once  a  capital  city  in 

all  its  completeness  by  even  liis  iron  and  domineering^ 
will. 

But  Moscow,  with  all  its  ancient  story,  would  have 
but  a  minor  interest  in  our  modern  eyes  and  in  our 
western  Europe,  and  but  a  weak  hold  upon  our  re- 
gards, were  it  not  for  one  great  modern  fact— the 
march  of  Napoleon  in  1812,  the  burning  of  the  city, 
and  his  retreat.  This  is  the  one  event  which  gives 
Moscow  its  prominent  place  in  our  thoughts  of  to-da}'. 
You  cannot  separate  yourself,  as  you  look  at  and 
think  of  the  city,  from  this  grand  and  tragic  circum. 

B  2 


POSITION.  OF  MOSCOW. 


VIEW  OF  THE  CITY. 


I 


! 


stance.  The  grandeur  of  the  enterprise,  the  amazing 
proportions  of  the  undertaking,  the  consummate  skill 
of  the  arrangement,  the  energy  of  the  conduct  of  the 
plan,  the  sublimity  of  the  defence,  the  tragic  failure, 
and  the  heroism  under  ruin — all  these  are  the  fea- 
tures of  the  picture  to  which  Moscow  owes  the  renown 
and  the  glory  stamped  upon  the  modern  mind. 

You  are  at  the  entrance  of  Moscow,  and  according- 
ly, with  your  mind  still  full  of  the  haunting  story,  the 
first  thing  you  do  is  to  unburthen  your  thoughts  of 
that  subject,  to  give  them  full  swing,  and  to  satisfy 
their  demands  by  visiting  at  once  the  scenes  of  the 
drama,  which  are  still  to  be  distinctly  recognised,  be- 
fore you  give  yourself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
place  and  its  varied  beauties.     Moscow  stands  in  the 
middle  of  a  waving  country,  upon  a  succession  of  low 
hills,  much  the  same  in  elevation  as  those  on  which 
London  stands.     The  river  Moskwa,  about  as  broad 
as  the  Thames  at  Windsor,    runs  into  it  from  the 
north-west,  and  forming  a  small  loop  flows  out  again 
in  the  direction  of  south-west.     On  this  western  side, 
at  a  distance  of  three  miles  from  the  barrier,  rises  a 
hill,  or  succession  of  hills,  of  no  great  height.     These 
are  the  Sparrow  Hills,  and  at  their  foot  flows  the 
Moskwa.     There  is  a  small  village  on  the  ridge,  and 


a  few  private  houses  of  gentlemen  stand  on  it  on 
either  side  of  the  village  and  look   down  over  the 
river  towards  the  city.    There  are  some  small  wooden 
buildings  along  the  road-side  in  front  of  the  village, 
and  these  are  used  by  people  from  the  city — parties 
of  pleasure  who  come  up  to  the  Sparrow  Hills  to  en- 
joy their  tea  or  dine,  and  to  look  out  from  the  veran- 
dahs over  their  sacred  and  glittering  Mo§cow.     The 
position,  the   broken  and  green  and  grassy  slope  with 
trees  and  shrubs  at  intervals,  puts  one  in  mind  of 
Richmond  Hill.     The  height  from  the  water  to  the 
houses  is  about  the  same  in  both  ;  but  instead  of  run- 
ning like  the  Thames  in  a  straight  line  across  the 
wide  expanse  of  country  below,  the  Moskwa  comes 
up  from  the  left  hand  with  a  circular  sweep,  passes 
along  at  tlie  foot  of  the  hill,  and  then  descends  again 
by  a  similar  bend  to  the  right,  and  continues  in  sio-ht 
until  it  is  concealed  by  the  houses  and  bridges  of  the 
city  at  a  distance  of  about  three  miles. 

From  this  height  the  whole  of  Moscow  lies  spread 
out  before  you  as  a  map.  You  can  see  every  part  of 
it  to  its  extremities,  can  mark  every  rise  and  fall  oi 
the  numerous  hills,  its  endless  pinnacles  and  cupolas 
glittering  in  the  sun,  its  towers,  its  bright-coloured 
houses,  and  its  universal  gardens.     With  your  back  to 


BATTLE  OF  BORODINO. 


I 

f 


the  west  you  look  to  the  north,  over  the  river  to  the 
race-course  and  to  the  plain  where  the  white  tents  of 
the  troops  form  a  canvas  town,  and  to  the  PeterhofF 
Palace, — over   the    Kremlin  and   its   gilded   towers 
right  in  front  of  you  to  the  east,   and  over  tlie  for- 
tress-like Convents  of  SimonofF  and  Novospaski,  and 
the  Sokolniki  gardens  and  pine  forests  to  the  south. 
Behind   you   to   the  west  is  Borodino, — with    your 
thoughts  still  full  of  the  great  tragedy  of  Moscow  you 
cannot  but  think  of  Borodino.     At  about  forty  miles 
distance  is  that  famous  village  near   which  Koutou- 
sofF,  the  Russian  Commander,  halted  liis  army  on  a 
low  and  broken  ridge  of  hills  and  fouglit  the  battle 
with  Napoleon,  in  which  80,000  men  are  declared  to 
have  fallen  on  the  two  sides,  and  the  result  of  which 
opened  the  way  for  the  French  Emperor  to  Moscow. 
It  may  be  said  here  en  passant  that  both  sides  claimed 
the  victory.      Napoleon,  of  course,  did  so,  as  he  did 
on  all  occasions  ;  and  Segur  relates  in  detail  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  battle  from  the  French  view  of  it. 
But  Ker  Porter  and  KoutousofF  claim  the  complete  vic- 
tory for  the  Russians,  stating  that  Napoleon  retreated 
some  miles  from  the  ground  after  the  battle  of  tlie 
7th  September  and  only  advanced  again  after  receiv- 
ing his  reinforcements,  when  KoutousofF,  acting  on  a 


A  PROUD  MOMENT  FOR  NAPOLEON.  7 

preconcerted  plan  with  Rostopchin,  the  Commandant 
of  Moscow,  again  retreated,  and  thus  left  the  city 
open. 

However  this  may  be,  the  French  came  on  in  a  few 
days,  and  on  the  15th  September  their  leading  files 
came  up  tlie  slope  from  the  west  to  the  Sparrow  Hills ; 
and  from  this  height  they  raised  their  shout  of  triumph 
and  exultation,  '^  Moscow !  Moscow!"  at  the  sightof  that 
brilliant  city,  tlie  end  and  apparent  reward  of  all  their 
labours,  lying  at  their  feet.      As  he  stood  there,  sur- 
rounded by  his  generals  and  his  troops,  it  must  have 
been  a  proud  moment  for  Napoleon,  for  no  grander 
or  more  beautiful  city  exists  anywhere  on  the  earth 
than  was  this  now  before  him.      Tlie  diameter  of  it 
from  north  to  south  is  about  six  miles,  and  from  the 
Sparrow  Hill  the  whole  of  this  extent  without  a  break 
was  under  his  eye ;  and  the  possession  of  such  a  city, 
the  capital  of  a  great  people,  filled,   as  he  could  see, 
with  almost  unnumbered  churches,  and,  as  he  would 
naturally  suppose,  with  merchandize  of  the  East  and 
West  and  private  possessions  of  the   great  Russian 
bankers  and  nobles,  would  appear  to  him  to  be  a  prize 
of  almost  incalculable  wealth  in  money  and  money's 
worth,  as  well  as  a  diadem  of  glory  to  France. 

Standing  there  and  gazing  on  that  glorious  scene 


8 


THE  RUSSIAN  DEFENCE. 


REMARKABLE  CONTRAST. 


1 1 

i 


I  could  not  but  imagine  for  the  moment  the  position 
and  the  pride  of  the  great  Emperor.  And  then  I  went 
back  over  the  story  of  the  advance,  the  sudden  pas- 
sage of  the  Niemen  by  Kowno — that  fatal  Rubicon — 
and  the  march  to  Wilna — pretty  Wilna,  lying  in  its 
hollow  among  picturesque  and  wooded  hills — when 
all  was  bright  before  the  French  leader  and  his  usual 
fortune  smiled  on  him.  Then,  too,  the  Russians  had 
not  yet  begun  to  burn  their  villages  and  towns  and 
lay  waste  their  country,  as  they  did  when  he  advanc- 
ed to  Witepsk  and  Smolensk,  and  showed  to  him  with 
what  fierce  and  relentless  hatred  they  sacrificed  every- 
thing to  destruction  in  their  magnificent  energy  of 
hostility  to  his  invasion  of  their  country. 

At  about  a  mile  distance  from  the  northern  gate  on 
my  left  there  was  visible,  at  the  edge  of  the  great 
military  plain,  the  Palace  of  PeterhofF,  to  which  Na- 
poleon had  gone  after  viewing  the  city  from  the  Spar- 
row Hills,  and  where  he  remained  for  two  days  in 
vain  expectation  of  the  authorities  of  Moscow  coming 
out  to  him,  as  usual  in  similar  circumstances,  with 
the  keys  of  the  town — a  deputation  of  the  conquered 
to  the  victor,  to  beg  for  clemency.  But  then  how  little 
he  understood  what  the  Russian  people  had  resolved 
on !     No    deputation   came ;   and  with  angry  words 


upon  his  lips  and  with  sad  presentiments  of  coming 
evil  in  his  heart,  he  entered  the  city  and  the  Krem- 
lin ;  and  then  only  he  learned,  by  the  fire  bursting  out 
almost  simultaneously  in  many  quarters,  even  in  the 
Kremlin  itself,  under  what  totally  new  and  savage  cir- 
cumstances his  invasion  was  to  be  met  by  a  united, 
and  a  devoted,  and  an  infuriated  nation. 

As  I  descended  the  hill  homewards  I  could  not  help 
thinking,  so  beautiful  was  the  scene  from  that  height, 
so  peaceful  in  its  repose  and  so  bright  and  shining  in 
the  rays  of  the  afternoon  summer  sun,  how  glad  a 
contrast  it  was  to  that  sublime  but  terrific  spectacle 
on  those  days  of  September  in  1812,  when  that  same 
city  was  wrapped  from  end  to  end,  here  in  sheets  of 
flame,  and  there  in  rolling  masses  of  suffocating 
smoke,  sacrificed  by  its  inhabitants  that  loved  it  on 
the  altar  of  their  country.  And  as  I  went  on,  I  could 
think  of  nothing  but  the  humiliation  of  the  so  lately 
jubilant  conquerors,  as  they  turned  their  backs  for 
the  last  time,  in  their  reluctant  retreat,  on  those  same 
Sparrow  Hills,  with  their  faces  towards  France,  that 
France  so  dear  to  them,  for  which  they  had  dared  so 
much,  and  which  so  few  of  them  were  ever  to  see 
again.  The  devastated  city  was  behind  them,  the 
cry   of  vengeance   everywhere   around   them,   while 


\  '-'^-^ 


10 


MOSCOW  AVENGED. 


u    < 


i' 


maddened  hosts  on  every  side  destroying  the  destroyer 
at  every  step  with  unsatisfied  rage,  until  worse  came 
upon  the  doomed  victims,  worse  than  the  Russian 
swords,  the  icy  hand  of  winter ;  and  then  regiments 
disbanded  and  dispersed  to  meet  no  more,  and  whole 
divisions,  in  their  exhaustion  and  despair,  surrendered 
themselves  to  their  conquerors,  with  all  their  spoil, — 
and  Moscow  was  avenged. 

But  now  let  us  forget  the  icy  march  of  death,  and 
the  shouts  of  the  avenger,  and  go  down  from  the  hill 
into  the  lovely  and  laughing  city. 


^'< 


11 


CHAPTER  II. 

Extent  of  Moscow — The  Kremlin — ^The  Kitai  Grorod,  or  Chinese  Town 
— Streets  and  Boulevards — Moscow  contrasted  with  other  Great 
Cities — A  City  of  Cottages — House  of  a  Russian  Nobleman — The 
Peasant's  Cottage — General  Appearance  of  the  City — Walk  from 
the  Palanka  Square — Broad  and  Noisy  Thoroughfare — Country  Life 
in  the  City — Quiet  Streets — Pleasant  Houses  and  their  Tenants — 
A  Professional  Musician — Russian  Churches — Novel  and  Picturesque 
Appearance  of  the  Streets — Scenes  of  Russian  Life — Beautiful  Little 
Church — Aristocratic  Street — Change  in  Russian  Society — New 
Quarter  of  the  Noblesse. 


^  )SCOW  is  said  to  have  a  circuit  of  twenty  miles. 

ill 
XI  j^     Tlie  centre  of  this,  or  nearly  so,  is  the  Kremlin 

Hill,  on  the  banks  of  the  Moskwa.  There  is  a  broad 
open  space  all  round  the  Kremlin  wall,  and  no  build- 
ings approach  its  sacred  precincts.  On  the  east  side 
of  this  hill,  and  beyond  the  great  market-place,  is  a 
curious  small  block  or  collection  of  houses  and  streets 
called  the  Kitai  Gorod,  or  Chmese  town.  This,  too, 
is  enclosed  and  separated  from  the  great  city  by  its 
own  battlemented  wall  encircling  it,  and  outside  of 
it  is  a  broad  boulevard  laid  out  with  trees  and  walks. 


12 


ROUND  THE  KREMLIN. 


RUSSIAN  HOUSES. 


13 


i    11 


Across  this  are  market-places,  large  buildings,  open 
spaces,  the  theatres,  gardens,  the  Foundling  Hospital, 
Hotels  and  Club  Houses,  bending  round  all  the  way 
from  the  river  Moskwa  on  the  one  side  of  the  Kremlin 
to  the  Moskwa  again  on  the  other.  From  this  boule- 
vard radiate  many  large  streets  to  the  barriers ;  but 
these  streets  are  intersected  at  some  little  distance  by 
other  boulevards,  running  in  a  circular  direction  all 
through  the  city,  also  laid  out  with  trees  and  walks ; 
and  ao-ain  farther  on  bv  still  another,  a  third,  boulevard 
similar  to  the  others.  Thus  the  city  is  divided  into 
circles  by  these  open  spaces,  which  admit  air  and  light 
to  all  parts  of  it.  But  Moscow  is  a  city  unlike  any 
other  capital.  In  the  great  cities  of  the  world  the 
streets  are  throughout  composed  almost  entirely  of 
large  houses,  and  one  street  resembles  another  in  the 
general  size  and  character  of  the  buildings.  One 
street  may  be  a  little  broader  than  its  neighbour,  and 
the  houses  in  the  larger  one  may  be  of  a  more  ornate 
style  than  those  of  the  smaller,  a  great  thoroughfare 
more  imposing  than  the  narrower  cross  street,  but 
still  there  is  a  general  resemblance.  But  this  is  not  the 
case  Vvdth  Moscow.  This  mav  be  almost  termed  a  city  of 
cottages.  In  fact  the  Russian  house  is  a  cottage,  on  a 
small  or  a  large  scale  according  to  the  rank  and  afflu- 


ence of  the  owner,  and  these  form  the  greater  part  of 
Moscow.  The  noble  builds  his  house,  in  town  or  coun- 
try, on  a  cottage  plan.  He  raises  a  low  wall  of  stone  or 
brick  of  some  four  feet  in  height,  and  on  this  he  builds 
a  wooden  house  of  one  storey.  It  is  long  and  wide,  and 
a  passage  or  hall  intersects  it  from  one  extremity  to 
the  other,  and  the  rooms  on  either  hand  open  on  to 
this  and  communicate  with  each  other.  Often,  too, 
there  is  a  small  superstructure  rising  from  the  centre  of 
this  wide  basement,  but  this  is  generally  only  a  small 
addition — in  fact,  a  small  cottage  built  in  the  centre  of 
the  top  of  a  large  one.  Sometimes,  but  rarely,  that 
upper  structure  is  as  large  as  the  lower  one  and  forms  a 
complete  one-storeyed  house.  But  beyond  this  no  truly 
Russian  house  ever  rises.  A  broad  flight  of  steps  in  the 
centre  of  the  front  leads  up  to  the  level  of  the  floor 
of  the  building  at  four  feet  from  the  ground,  and  a  ve- 
randah, deep  and  shaded,  runs  all  along  this  front,  and 
sometimes  this  extends  down  the  two  sides  to  the  back. 
As  a  rule,  the  whole  building  is  of  wood.  In  the  villages 
the  cottage  of  the  peasant  resembles  in  its  essential 
features  the  house  of  the  noble.  It  has  the  flight  of 
steps,  the  verandah  in  front,  and  sometimes  even  the 
miniature  structure  rising  from  the  centre.  These  no- 
ble cottages  and  peasant  cottages  form  the  greater  part 


^1 

V 


14 


MAIN  AND  CROSS  STREETS. 


;      I 


of  Moscow.  You  should  imagine  a  circular  city  the 
centre  of  which  are  the  Kremlin  and  the  Kitai  Gorod, 
and  that  from  this  centre  radiate  a  certain  number  of 
broad  thoroughfares  running  out  to  the  different  bar- 
riers. These  main  streets  are  all  from  forty  to  fifty 
feet  in  breadth  in  the  central  parts,  but  widen  to  sixty 
and  seventy,  and  even  more,  as  they  approach  the  bar- 
riers. The  buildings  on  either  §ide  of  these  are  what 
are  always  by  the  natives  called  stone  houses,  but  are 
in  reality  invariably  brick,  and  they  are  all  of  only 
one  storey,  with  very  rare  exceptions,  such  as  in  the 
case  of  some  public  buildings.  Thus  the  houses  being  of 
very  low  elevation  and  the  streets  broad,  there  is  great 
brightness  through  the  city.  But  when  you  turn  out  of 
anyone  of  these  large  thoroughfares  into  a  cross  street 
you  find  yourself  at  once  among  village  cottages.  These 
cross  ways,  which  form  a  network  in  the  large  spaces 
between  one  great  thoroughfare  and  another,  are  the 
prettiest  and  most  quiet  and  retired  little  country  re- 
treats one  can  imagine.  They  are  quite  unique  in  their 
repose  and  neatness,  and  their  entire  absence  of  the 
noise  and  turmoil  of  the  great  city.  For  instance, 
let  us  walk  from  the  Palanka  Square  in  the  centre 
of  everything,  close  outside  of  the  w^all  of  the  Kitai 
Gorod,   and  taking  the   street   to   the    Post    Office, 


RUS  IN  URBE. 


15 


yii 


distant  only  about  half  a  mile,  we  come  on  it, 
a  large  white  building,  standing  far  back  from  the 
thoroughfare,  in  a  fine  court-yard  seventy  or  eighty 
yards  in  length  and  enclosed  by  a  high  iron  railing 
with  gilded  spear-points.  Here  we  cross  the  next 
boulevard,  and  immediately  beyond  it  we  turn  out  of 
the  broad  and  noisy  thoroughfare  leading  to  the  Red 
Gate  and  the  Petei^burg  railway  station,  a  thorough- 
fare always  resoundin^^j  with  carts  or  droschkies  or 
carriages,  and  we  find  ourselves  in  a  quiet,  pretty, 
retired  street.  A  few  yards  farther  on  we  turn 
down  what  might  be  a  lane  in  a  country  village. 
On  either  hand  are  small  cottages,  the  windows  look- 
ing on  the  street,  but  there  is  no  doorway.  To  each 
of  them  is  a  large  gateway  opening  into  a  green  and 
grassy  court  and  garden.  As  we  walk  by,  the  gate 
being  half  open,  perhaps,  we  look  in,  and  witness  a 
quiet  scene  of  the  country.  There  are  trees,  two  or 
tliree  small  laburnums  or  acacias,  and  a  flower-bed, 
and  cocks  and  hens  are  walking  about  on  the  grass 
plot ;  there  is  perliaps  a  cow,  and  the  stable  and 
coach-house,  and  a  man  is  pushing  the  rude  tarantass 
into  tlie  coacli-house.  The  women  are  seated  on  the 
verandah,  or  on  the  steps  leading  down  into  the  gar- 
den, and  the  children  are  at  play.     It  is  a  sunny  spot, 


16 


COUNTRY  KESIDENCES. 


^A 


w 


fresh,  and  green,  and  bright,  and  quiet,  as  if  fifty 
miles  from  Moscow.  The  whole  thing  is  of  wood, 
the  house,  the  gateway,  the  garden  palings,  but  no- 
thing can  look  more  neat  or  more  home-like.  Each, 
in  fact,  is  a  little  village  domain.  In  the  windows, 
too,  of  some  of  them  are  flowers  and  books,  and  wo- 
men sit  in  them  at  work.  From  end  to  end  of  this 
lane  is  a  succession  of  these  country  residences,  and 
in  the  far  end  one,  of  some  little  more  pretension, 
lives  some  official.  It  is  in  one  of  this  kind  of  pretty 
country  houses  that  our  British  Consul  lives,  to  whom 
I  take  this  opportunity  of  making  my  acknowledge- 
ments for  unvarying  kindness  and  nmch  valuable  in- 
formation. These  quiet  streets  are  all  over  Moscow, 
lying  between  the  great  thoroughfares. 

It  was  pleasant  to  stroll  about  among  these  seclud- 
ed ways  and  watch  the  daily  life  of  the  xMuscovite?. 
These  cottages  were  all  tenanted,  and  I  was  informed 
that  it  was  by  no  means  an  easy  thing  to  obtain  one 
as  a  residence.  They  bear  a  very  high  rent ;  they 
are  not  shops,  and  are  occupied  many  of  them  by 
the  families  of  tradesmen  who  have  saved  up  a  little 
money  and  invested  it  in  a  Moscow  cottao^e.  Others  are 
let  to  officials,  clerks  in  offices,  or  in  houses  of  bank- 
ers or  merchants,  of  whom  there  is  an  extensive  and 


A  MUSICIAN. 


17 


\ 


wealthy  body  in  the  town.  The  general  air  of  them 
is  good  and  bespeaks  a  tenancy  of  well-to-do  people. 
There  are  some  of  these  quiet  lanes  within  almost  a 
stone's  throw  of  the  Grand  Opera  House  and  of  the 
Kitai  Gorod,  quite  in  the  centre  of  the  town,  and  in 
some  of  these  the  cottages  are  occupied  evidently  by 
families  quite  of  the  humbler  class. 

One  day  I  wandered  along  the  great  Boulevard  to- 
wards the  river,  and,  attracted  by  the  sound  of  music, 
I  turned  up  one  of  these  small  lanes  and  found  myself 
in  a  maze  of  pretty  ornamented  villas,  all  built  in  the 
cottage  style.  A  gate  of  one  being  open  I  looked 
in,  and  from  the  open  windows  issued  the  sounds 
which  I  had  heard.  The  instrument  was  a  piano  and 
the  player  a  man.  He  was  evidently  a  professional— 
perhaps  of  the  Grand  Opera.  Sometimes  he  let  his 
hands  stray  over  the  chords  in  that  careless  manner 
so  indicative  of  the  musician,  wandering  irregularly 
without  order,  and  yet  producing  a  wild  and  graceful 
harmony;  then  striking,  as  if  accidentally,  two  or 
three  notes  of  some  well-known  air  of  Mozart  or  Ros- 
sini he  followed  it  up  for  a  few  bars,  his  voice  burst- 
ing into  the  song  with  full,  mellow,  manly  tones ;  and 
then  as  suddenly  he  ceased  as  he  ran  his  fingers 
rapidly  over  a  dozen  notes  with  a  flourish,  and  then 


18 


SUDDEN  DIP  INTO  A  VALLEY. 


all  was  silent.     I  sat  down  upon  a  stone  at  the  gate- 
way, in  the  shade  of  a  laburnum  which  hung  over 
the  garden  paling,  and  listened.     A  turn  in  the  wind- 
ing lane  shut  out  the  noisy  boulevard  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, and  surrounded  by  trees  and  gardens  and  cot- 
tages I  could  easily  believe  myself  to  be  far  away 
from  a  capital  city,  and  in  a  country  village.     It  was 
a  hot  August  day,  the  smell  of  flowers  came  from  the 
gardens,  the  shade  of  the  laburnum  fell  over  me,  and 
then,  at  intervals,  the  musician  got  up  from  his  seat 
by  the  piano.     I  could  hear  him  walk  along  the  floor 
humming   some    air,    and   then   he  would    sit  down 
again,   as   some   thought  or  fancy  struck   him,   and 
throw  the  fancy  into  music  in  his  unstudied  way,  un- 
til it  ran  on  into  some  remembered  air,  when  again 
he  would  be  unable  to  resist  the  temptation  to  pour 
out  a  line  or  two  of  the  Orphce  aux  Enfers  in  his  na- 
tive Russ.     At  this  time  this  fine  opera  of  Gluck  was 
being  played  at  the  Grand  Opera  House  of  Moscow 
by  native  performers,  many  of  whom  have  fine  voices. 
Sauntering  on,  I  came  presently  to  a  turn  of  the 
street,  between  a  small  church  of  rich  ornamentation 
ir  ^     .me  trees  and  palings,  w^here  was  a  sudden  dip 
of  the  ground  into  a  valley,  or  gorge,  which  ran  down 
to  the  Muskwa  on  my  right,  and  sloped  up  to  the  level 


^ 


\ 


ASPECT    OF  MOSCOW. 


W 


of  the  hill  on  my  left.     All  this  head  of  the  valley,  as 
well  as  its  sides,  was  laid  out  in  cottage  villas.    On  the 
top  of  the  ridge  of  hills  rose  up  frequent  churches, 
each  church  with  its  five  green  or  gilded  cupolas  and 
its  bell  tower,  tapering  and  graceful,  the  walls  either 
brilliant  white  or  deUcate  pink.     All  the  houses  bein^ 
low,  each  in  its  garden,  almost  invariably  with  white 
walls  and  green  or  red  roof,  the  effect  was  singularly 
bright  and  picturesque.     The  air  of  Moscow  being 
light,  and  dry,  and  strong,  whatever  smoke  there  may 
rise  from  the  chimneys,  instead  of  hanging  in  mid  air 
as  with  us  in  our  damp  climate,  is  dispersed  at  once, 
and  the  result  is  you  see  no  smoke  anywhere.  In  that 
bright  atmosphere  the  houses  and  churches  thus  con- 
tinue externally  for  a  long  time  clean,  and  the  people 
being  fond  of  bright  painting  the  general  aspect  of  the 
city  is  as  if  the  whole  population  had  just  completed  a 
general  painting  of  roofs,  and  walls,   and  chimneys. 
As  you  come  suddenly  on  these  interiors  of  the  town 
from  some  hill  top  the  efi^ect  is  something  exceedingly 
novel,  and  the  first  feeling  is  that  Moscow  is  the  most 
picturesque  and  the  most  attractive  city  you  have  ever 
seen. 

As  I  stood  there,  leaning  over  a  low  paling  by  the 
side  of  the  lane — for  it  was  a  village  lane  much  more 

c  2 


20 


COUNTRY  LIFE  IN  THE  CITY 


than  a  city  street,  the  hill-side  was  quite  steep  beyond 
the   paling, — a  peasant  woman  came  out  of  a  small 
rude  wooden   hut  and  called  her  cliickens  about  her 
and  fed  them.     These  came  hurrying  at  her  call  out 
of  two  or  three  little  out-houses,  flying   over  some 
tumble-down     palings   from    the   garden     and    wild 
grounds  down  the   slope   below  the  yard ;   and  then 
the   children   came  out  from    somewhere,  dirty  and 
healthy,  and   a  small   dog  johied   the   company  and 
stretched  himself  in  the  sun.     From   where  I  stood  1 
had  a  bird's-eye  view  down  into  these  rustic  premises 
immediately  under  me.     It  was  the  very  rudest  coun- 
try life  in  the  midst  of  the  city.     Presently  a  noise  be- 
hind me  made  me  turn  round,  and   across  the  lane  on 
the  steps  up  to  the  church  door  was  an   old  man 
sprinkling  fir  branches,  or  rather  ends  and  tips  of  fir 
branches,  on  the  steps  and  into  the  doorway.     Some 
ceremony  was  being  prepared  for.     But  what  a  con- 
trast was  the  rich  church  with  the  rude  cabin  and 
garden  across  the  lane  !     The  church  was  of  a  square 
form  outside.     In  the  inside  the  arrangement   was  in 
the  usual  form  of  the  Greek  Cross.     Five  gilded   cu- 
polas rose  from  its  roof,   but  the  sides  were  elaborate 
with  marbles  and  sculpture.     It  was  an   elegant  little 
building,  the   windows  high   up,   square   and  Italian, 


^ 


PLEASANT  VILLAS. 


21 


marble  pilasters  projecting  from  the  walls,  and  a  nar- 
row band  of  sculptured  stone-work  running  round  the 
whole  church  below^  the  windows,  and  another  similar 
one  above  them.  The  w^hole  of  it  was  fanciful  and 
pretty.  Inside,  too,  it  was  bright  with  much  gilding, 
and  was  more  like  a  pet  private  chapel  in  the  coun- 
trv  than  here  within  almost  a  stone's  throw  of  the 
Great  Boulevard. 

Skirting  the  church  along  the   lane  I  came  out  on 
the  hill,  and  keeping  on  towards  the  outskirts  of  the 
city  I  entered  a  long  wide  street,  quite  different  from 
any  I  had  seen.     Here  were  a  succession  of  Italian 
villas  on  both  sides, — large   imposing  gateways,  lofty 
walls,  and  white  one-storeyed  houses  with  large  gar- 
dens and  courts.     In  most  of  these  a  lon2^  line  of  win- 
dows  looked  on  tlie  street  from  the   line  of  elevation 
of  the  top  of  the  garden  walls  ;   and  here  on  this  first 
floor,  the  hel piano ^  were  evidently  the  chief  rooms  of 
the  family,  for  in  almost  all   of  the  houses  I  passed 
there  were  ladies  sitting  by  one  or  the  other  of  these 
windows,  either  at  work  or  reading.      In  some  cases 
they  were  leaning  out  and  talking.      There  were  no 
shops ;    all  were  dwelling-houses.      The  street    was 
broad,  silent,  clean,  and  brilliant  with   summer  sun. 
Now  and  then  its  silence  was  broken  by  a  droschky 


22 


A  TYPE  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE. 


passing,  or  a  more  imposing  carriage  of  one  of  the 
dwellers  in  the  street  stopping  at  a  gateway;  and  then 
the  big  doors  opened  into  a  court,  and  the  carriage 
entered,  the  gates  closed,  and  all  was  still  again.  The 
whole  thing  was  rich,  exclusive,  aristocratic.  I  found, 
on  inquiring,  that  this  had  once  been  one  of  the  no- 
blesse quarters,  and  these  their  houses  ;  but  in  late 
years  the  nobles  had,  in  their  troubles,  emigrated  to 
another  quarter,  and  now  these  Italian  villas  were  oc- 
cupied by  the  rich  commercials  of  Moscow.  This  was 
a  type  of  the  change  that  is  gradually  going  on  in  Rus- 
sian society ;  as  a  Russian  gentleman  one  day  said  to 
me,  *'  We  are  going  down,  and  our  estates  and  houses 
are  passing  into  the  hands  of  the  men  of  commerce." 

Naturally,  when  the  country  estate  is  cut  up  and 
divided,  or  sold,  the  Moscow  palace,  or  villa,  goes 
too.  In  various  parts  of  the  city  I  subsequently  saw 
extensive  buildings,  once  the  gorgeous  palaces  of  no- 
bles, now  fallen  from  their  high  estate.  One  of  them, 
a  Sheiomaytief  Palace,  which  had  lately  held  one 
hundred  and  fifty  retainers  of  all  kinds,  a  papa  and  a 
chapel  forming  part  of  the  establishment,  was  now  in 
the  occupation  of  a  commercial  company,  the  grass 
growing  rank  in  the  back  courts  and  the  flower-garden 
running  wild. 


QUARTER  OF  THE  NOBLESSE. 


23 


,(i 


The  present  quarter  of  the  noblesse  is  nearer  the 
Kremlin,  and  the  houses  are  pretty  country  villas  in 
gardens,  many  of  them  consisting  only  of  a  raised 
ground-floor.  They  show  that  still  the  Russian  gen- 
tleman retains  all  his  old  love  for  the  native  style  of 
house.  The  streets  of  this  new  quarter  of  the  no- 
blesse are  not  broad,  but  as  the  houses  are  all  low 
and  stand  in  gardens  away  generally  from  the  street- 
side,  and  as  there  is  not  much  traffic  along  them, 
there  is  a  freshness  and  a  brightness  of  the  air  and  a 
repose  and  soothing  quiet  which  make  a  saunter 
along  them  particularly  pleasing.  Here  and  there 
children  are  about  in  the  gardens,  or  domestics  are 
lazily  occupied  in  the  stable-yards  cleaning  the  har- 
ness by  the  stable  door,  or  lounging  about,  enjoying 
the  ^''  far  nienie,''  while  the  noisy  hum  of  the  busy 
city  is  just  audible  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  quar- 
ter. Pretty  and  quiet  as  it  is,  however,  it  has  not 
the  rich  and  imposing  air  of  the  old  aristocratic  quar- 
ter now  taken  possession  of  by  the  men  of  commerce. 


24 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  Kremlin— The  External  Wall  and  Towers— The  IMoskwa— Fine 
Esplanade,  and  View  from  it— An  Historical  Question — The  Nichol- 
sky  Gate— Inscription  by  the  Emperor  Alexander— Russian  Super- 
stition— The  Arsenal — New  Law  Courts  and  Government  Offices  — 
Trophies  of  the  Campaign  of  1812 — Unnecessary  Precaution— The 
"Tzar'' — The  Imperial  Palace— The  Sacred  Gateway — The  Towers 
and  Bells  of  Ivan  Veliki— The  "Czar  Kolokol"— Panoramic  View 
of  the  City— Great  Number  of  Churches  and  Cupolas — Old  Resi- 
dence of  the  RomanofiFs— Ancient  Palace  of  the  Ruriks— National 
Pride  of  the  Russians. 

j   I  UT,  of  course,  one  of  the  first  places  you  go  to 

i      i 

*  '  see  is  the  Kremlin.  It  may  be  described  as  a 
solitary  hill  in  the  midst  of  the  city,  inclosed  by  a 
wall  about  a  mile  and  a  quarter  in  length.  This  wall 
stands  up  a  little  way  on  the  slope,  and  is  of  irregular 
height.  In  some  places  it  is  perhaps  seventy  feet 
high,  and  in  others  not  more  than  forty,  according  to 
the  ground.  It  is  of  red  brick,  and  is  battlemented. 
There  are  eleven  towers  on  it,  four  of  which  are  above 
the  gateways.  All  these  four  are  of  stone,  lofty, 
many-storied,  of  open  work,  richly  ornamented  above, 


THE  KREMLIN. 


25 


{ 


i 


heavy  and  rude  below,  partly  of  Italian  Gothic.     The 
others  are  of  red  brick,  of  varied  and  fanciful  charac- 
ter— some  round,  and  roofed  with  shining  green  tiles, 
and  others  square,  like  a  Saxon  donjon  keep,  while 
one  small  one  resembles  an  Oriental  summer-house. 
This  latter  was  used  in  the  days  of  the  early  Czars  as 
a  look-out  place  on  the  gatherings  of  the  people,  on 
any  occasion  of  moment,  on  the  great  public  market- 
place beneath  the  wall.     Altogether  the  Kremlin  is 
a  grand  old  media3val  fortress,  once  strong  against 
Cossack  lances  and  Polish   spears,  against  bills  and 
bows,  but  not  of  any  use  now  against  cannon.     With 
its  fine  simple  walls  and  its  numerous  and  variously- 
shaped  towers,  it  is  a  most  picturesque  relic  of  past 
times.     The  Moskwa  river  flows  into  the  citv  from 
the  west,  strikes  the  foot  of  the  Kremlin  hill,  runs 
along  it  from  end  to  end  of  that  front,  and  then,  with 
a  graceful  bend,  flows  out  of  the  city  again  to  the 
south-west.     The  hill  is  cut  away  from  the  river-bank 
so  as  to  allow  a  broad  roadway  along  the  base,  and  a 
steep  pitch  beyond  rises  to  a  fine  esplanade  on  which 
stand  the  palace  and  other  buildings  and  command 
the  river  to  the  west  and  south,  the  city  and  the  coun- 
try beyond  towards  the  Sparrow  Hills. 

I   asked  various  persons  which  was  the  gate  by 


'\\ 


26 


THE  NICHOLSKY  GATE. 


which  Napoleon  had  entered  and  left  the  Kremlin, 
but  it  was  an  odd  thing,  there  seemed  to  be  a  doubt 
which  of  three  gates  was  the  right  one.  However, 
there  was  one  circumstance  which  appeared  to  mark 
it — an  inscription  by  the  Emperor  Alexander  over 
the  arch.  This  one  is  called  the  Nicholsky  Gate,  and 
it  opens  on  to  the  broad  market-place ;  but  it  is  not 
the  principal  entrance  to  the  Kremlin.  Over  it  rises 
a  lofty  tower  in  successive  storeys  of  stone,  a  fine  me- 
diaeval structure.  The  arch  is  pointed  Gothic,  and 
above  the  crown  of  the  arch  is  a  picture  of  St.  Nicho- 
las of  Mojaisk,  a  small  picture  in  a  gilt  frame,  and  be- 
neath this  is  the  inscription.  This  latter  says  that  Na- 
poleon, on  his  leaving  Moscow,  tried  to  blow  up  this 
gateway  and  tower,  but  that  the  Saint  whose  image  is 
there  protected  and  saved  it.  The  consequence  of 
this  authoritative  statement  by  the  Czar  is  that  no 
Russian,  from  the  Emperor  down  to  the  peasant, 
passes  in  or  out  of  that  arch  without  uncovering  to 
the  picture,  and  most  persons  cross  themselves  three 
times  and  say  a  prayer.  Thus  all  day  long  you  may 
see,  without  cessation,  people  uncovering,  or  kneeling 
bare-headed,  or  crossing  themselves  energetically,  at 
the  entrance  of  the  Nicholskv  Gate. 

This  gateway  is  a  long  arched  way  of  some  twenty 


THE  ARSENAL. 


27 


yards  in  length,  the  ground  rising  rather  steeply;  and 
when  you  are  through  it  you  find  yourself  still  on  the 
slope  of  the  hill,  with  a  broad  open  space  in  your 
front  which  continues  quite  over  the  hill  to  the  far 
side,  to  the  terrace  above  the  Moskwa.  Immediate- 
ly on  your  right  is  the  Arsenal,  an  imposing  structure 
of  considerable  extent,  long  and  low;  while  on  your 
left  is  another  great  pile,  in  which  are  the  new  Law 
Courts,  and  other  Government  offices.  What  strikes 
the  eye  at  first  is  the  enormous  number  of  cannon 
piled  in  compartments  in  an  artistic  way  on  a  low 
raised  platform  in  front  of  the  whole  length  of  the 
Arsenal.  There  are  large  guns,  small  guns,  plain,  or- 
namented, iron  guns,  brass  guns.  There  are  hundreds 
and  hundreds — it  is  said  twelve  hundred  is  the  num- 
ber. These  are  the  trophies  of  the  famous  campaign 
of  1812.  Ker  Porter  and  Segur  both  agree  in  this, — 
though  they  differ  in  so  many  otlier  points, — that  the 
French  did  not  manage  to  carry  one  single  gun  over 
the  Niemen  on  their  quitting  Russia — not  one.  Except 
those  guns,  then,  that  were  blown  to  pieces  purposely  on 
the  retreat,  or  thrown  into  rivers  and  lost,  here  are  all 
of  that  mighty  armament  which  the  Emperor  took  with 
him  on  that  fatal  expedition.  You  cannot  help  regard- 
ing these  silent  witnesses  of  that  terrible  punishment 


28 


PATRIOTIC  INSCRIPTION. 


of  overvaultin^:  ambition  witlioiit  a  certain  deoree  of — 
well — deep  sympathy — almost  a  kind  of  pain.  What 
scenes  of  carnage — what  scenes  of  horror — of  scarcely 
human  ferocity,  of  reckless  courage,  of  brutal  savagery, 
of  wild  despair,  must  these  now  sleeping  engines  of  an 
unbridled  violence  have  known  and  shared  in  !  How 
eloquent,  too,  they  are,  as  they  lie  there  in  their  quiet 
order,  of  all  that  tale  of  death  and  ruin ;  and  as  you 
stand  there  and  look  at  them,  and  touch  them,  the 
whole  story  seems  to  rise  up  and  present  itself  fresh 
and  tangible  to  your  eyes.  On  a  copper  plate  in  the 
wall  of  the  building  is  this  inscription  : — ''  Canons  pris 
aux  ennemis  en  1812,  sur  le  territoire  Russe,  par  la 
victorieuse  armee  et  la  brave  et  fidele  nation  Russe." 
I  could  not  help  thinking,  as  I  read  the  words,  that 
they  tell  the  truth,  but  not  the  wliole  truth,  as  many 
another  inscription  does,  and  that  if  the  words  *'et 
par  le  froid  "  had  been  added  they  would  have  sup- 
plied what  was  wanting. 

Many  of  these  guns  were  ornamented  with  devices, 
flowers,  and  figures,  and  many  bore  mottoes.  On  one 
was  stamped  a  large  "  N  "  encircled  with  a  coronal  of 
leaves.  On  another  was  '^  La  Tempete  ;"  on  others 
**Le  Faucon,"  ^'L' Acharne,"  ^'KHercule."  One  bore 
the  motto  '^  Vigilatedeo  confidenti;"  others  '^Nemini 


COPYING  MOTTOES  NOT  PERMITTED. 


29 


L\ 


cedo,"  ''  Concordia  res  parva3  crescunt,"  'Tro  gloria  et 
patria,"  ^'Strasburg  le  26  Fructidor,"  and  so  on.  What 
a  satire  were  now  these  boasting  titles !  What  a  mock- 
ery of  the  vaunting  words  was  their  present  humilia- 
ting position  ! 

As  I  was  examining  some  of  these  guns  and  copy- 
ing the  inottoes  near  an  archway  in  the  centre  of  the 
building,  in  which  a  sentinel  was  pacing  up  and  down, 
an  officer  came  out  and  said  this  was  forbidden,  and 
desired  me  to  go  away.     Of  course  I  obeyed,  though 
ruminating  and  trying  to  calculate  w^hat  would  be  the 
cliances  of  danger  to  the  Russian  Empire  from  a  sim- 
ple traveller  copying  a  motto  or  two  of  these  captive 
and  now  harmless  guns.     It  is  true  they  were  dug  up 
mure  than  half  a  century  ago,  some  from,  perhaps, 
some  snow-drift  at  Krasnoe,  where  Ney  lost  his  whole 
rear-guard,— or  were  captured  near  Smolensk,  when 
the  entire  division  of  Davoust  laid  down  its  arms  in 
despair, — or  were  fished  from  the  waters  of  the  Bere- 
sina,  when  Napoleon  gave  the  terrible  order  to  burn 
the    bridge    behind   him,    though  crowded   with  the 
shrieking  masses  of  his  men,  and  when  it  sank  with  all 
its  freight  into  the  icy  stream  !     These  were  facts,  but 
still  I  failed  to  see  in  them  and  my  copying  the  mot- 
toes the  combination  of  danger  to  Russia,      However, 


30 


THE  TZAR. 


I 


there    were  people  who    thought  otherwise  with    a 
superior  logic  to  mine,  and  so  I  gave  in. 

You  go  on,  with  nothing  to  stop  you,  along  the  open 
space  beyond  the  Arsenal  and  the  Law  Courts,  pass  a 
convent  on  your  left  and  a  guard-house  of  soldiers  and 
1. arrack  on  your  riglit — in  front  of  which  latter  stands 
the  monster-piece  of  ordnance  called  the  Tzar  cannon, 
weighing  nearly  40  tons, — past  the  Senate  11  juse  and 
the  Cathedral — which,  in  fact,  is  but  a  small  church — 
until  you  come  on  the  broad,  smooth,  extending  es- 
planade or  terrace,  crowning  all  the  south-west  front 
r  f  iM  Kremlii  H'U — the  royal  terrace  high  above  the 
ri'    !\  ;.ad  commanding  the  city. 

It  is  a  fine  position  for  the  palace,  lofty,  dominmu, 
worthy  of  the  imperial  residence  in  the  capital  of  a 
ci  at  country.  As  you  turn  round  and  lean  uu  lutj 
ij  V  iron  railing  that  runs  all  the  way  along  the  sum- 
niii  of  the  steep  grassy  slope  above  the  wall  and  *':^ 
t'  wers  ;ir  1  the  M  ':\va,  you  •  ve  all  that  broad  level 
c;  1  ;  ^-part  of  it  more  than  a  hundred  yard?  wide — 
*m  Hnnt  of  you,  and  beyond  this  ranged  the  long  line 
nf  the  many  and  linking  buildings  so  celebrated,  liu 
yuiir  uxireme  right  is  the  lofty  and  lapering  towt_r 
above  the  pv^.d-r^.i^^  -.M:;ed  gatf^vay,  throu^r  v.  ;..-h 
n-     :.     pu-ses — not  even  the  Emperor — except  un- 


THE  TOWERS  OF  IVAN  VELIKI. 


31 


\ 


covered.  Just  inside  this  is  the  white  and  fanciful  small 
Gothic  church  in  which  lie  the  remains  of  so  many 
of  the  females  of  the  Imperial  familJ^  Next  to  this  are 
the  walls  of  a  convent,  where  a  number  of  elderlv  ladies 
of  good  famihes  possess  a  church  abounding  in  bright 
colours  and  gold  and  silver  ornaments. — nn(^  mn- 
tiguous  to  it  is  the  long,  low  front  of  an  old  palace  of 
the  Czars,  of  moderate  pretensions.  Touching  this, 
but  a  little  retired,  is  another  convent ;  and  then  suc- 
ceed, in  an  irregular  line,  the  famous  towers  of  T  a:. 
Veliki  with  their  numerous  and  world-renr  ^rr- 1 
bells;  the  Cathedral  and  the  two  other  churche-  w'^h 
their  gilded  and  glittering  cupolas;  and  then  the  long 
front  of  the  new  palace,  a  modern  structure  of  yellow 
stone,  wi  h  A labesque  windows,  and  containing  tin ue 
of  the  grandest  halls  in  Europe.  These  comprise  ih^i 
remarkable  front  of  the  l\  ^mlin,  varied  1  Token, 
picturesque.  Seen  from  the  opposite  "^  i  k  r  Hip 
river,  with  the  castellaivl  uall  and  the  fan  ciiu:  j!  1 
varied  luwers  of  many  colours  below  and  the  ]a!;i(*^ 
and  temple-crowned  height  t bove,  the  long  fruni  ki 
minating  at  either  extremity  in  tall  and  graceful  i 
nacleb  -frhe  gateway  towers,  the  i:  «  !  uK 


.1'- 


i   od  fo^  b(  I  I'V  and  position. 

riir^r  V  '!  'JO  to  the  top  of  the  ^ 


Veliki,  two 


32 


PANORAMIC  VIEW. 


>4 


hundred  and  seventy  feet  in  height,  built  by  the 
usurper  Boris  ^  ^  lunoff,  after  his  generally-believed 
murder  of  the  youthful  Czar  Demetrius,  and  see  the 
bells,  among  the  wonders  of  Moscow.  The  largest 
weighs  sixty-four  tons,  one  hundred  and  twenty-eight 
tliM-   i    i    ,,  .^    i.-_a  noble  bell.     But   imagine   the 

ii^,     at  the  foot  of  the  tower,  nineteen 


czai'    i>i    bu 


i    ;  ,  i.  '  "-> 


i  i       i  i      i 


Kj 


11    _  L     I  ill  '-'^-      i 

CU'(;!i!iil(  'i\'!i'"< ',    an-  i  w-  ■:„:  unu  P  Mir 
1 


i  i  i  i '     i 


A. 


lal-'      Tiii^    ]:vUt 


*,  .>•' 


1     WmvIc     r.f 


1  1 


tnW'a'    li!     \\a)ifn    11     \\';: 


art    1-.  h'>W('vra\  hr<ikf!L  !!i'" 

su<pt'ii"l*'^l  1ia\'i!iLi"  l'''*'ii  iainU.  :iii'l  \\i^'    i;til    lra<'lurini: 

Fr««!n    tlic  hail  ^^Jliki  }  uu  liaw    a    paiicraiiiif  view 
of  tho   cit\'     aii'l   \''»u   l^nk    tLnvii    int«>   tia'   tli<>ii.^and 
prottv   L^arih'iis    of  tlio    cottaL:r'>    and   villa-  <'!"  which 
the    citv   is   principally    cnmprxed.      As    tlicsr^    liDiises 
evervwhore,  gTcat  and  small  liavi^  Ln'CtMi  or  rcil  roots, 
but  priMci])ariv  green,  and   the  walls  of  them   are  al- 
most  all   white,  the   brightness   of  the  buildings  is  a 
wonderful  siuht.     The   oreen  gardens  and  trees  and 
the    f^reen  roofs   so  l^l^nd  on  .^'omo  o(  the   slojX'S  that 
at  a  certain  distance  tliere   itrv  spot^  which  lo(^k  like 
one  mass  of  verdure  dotted  with,  white.      How  unlike 
a  citv!     Then,  as    Moscowm<  declare. 1   to  liavf>  some 


OLD  HOUSE  OF  THE  ROMANOFFS. 


33 


four  hundred  churches,  great  and  small,  the  number 
of  cupolas  and  bell-towers  is  immense.  I  tried  to 
count  from  the  tower  those  of  a  section  of  the  city— 
about  one-sixth— between  my  hands,  held  so  as  to 
shut  off  all  but  about  that  proportion  from  sight,  and 
I  counted  one  hundred  and  sixty  towers  anl  -n)  m^. 
within  tliat  space.  Multiply  this  by  six.  The  ^nn-o 
so  enclosed,  wheu 


1   "_-vaiiilai>^vl 


i  I  ;  .  (  1  I  ■  '  I. 


ii  aiit'!'- 


V.  :r. 


••i  die  rest  of  ui-:  i-jwn,  wa-  iiul  paniruhtrlv 


1  T 


NvIm 


II  wa- 


« 'n!\-  an  avcra;j:(j   see- 


^'"'•^  '♦<"  ^'i''  v-h,:le.  The  ^vav;!!u  mT  iiu'  grouiKk  the 
^'^■^-■'^^'1^'-  '^f  ^!"'  iM!iMi!iir<.  tlh:  inllniiv  of  o-raceAd 
ulyLci-  riMMLi  aiH.Vf  fJM'  hniiQo^,  here  in  clusters  and 
tliLrc  la  sif)-ic  iMWi-rs  ih»^  aiiirci'iiiLr  river  windin^r  in 
aii-1  .uiij  ihc  hatg  ^^looc-  \>-,  it  imdulatinir  and  covered 
with  vilJa^.  the  lingular  ireshucss  and  ornamentation 
of  the  whoh'.  cruuposed  a  picture  quite  unique. 

The  old  'Iwclling-house  of  tlie  Romanoff  family  is 
down  m  the  Kitai  Gorod,  and  though  uninhabited 
since  they  became  Emperors,  it  is  still  maintained  by 
each  succeeding  Czar  in  all  its  original  condition.  It 
IS  a  very  small — indeed,  diminutive,  pretty,  quaint 
building,  which  reminded  me,  in  the  size  of  its  rooms 
and  in  its  primitive  arrangements,  of  some  of  the  con- 
fined and  cramped  castles  of  the  Rhine  barons  on  the 

D 


i, 


34 


[■  \;  .\i'E  OK  T 


!       '  >    •    «  •  v' 


-1   -1 


luiiiv.  oi'  thai  river.  The  Romunuffis  until  11'  were, 
while  the  Kurik  family  were  on  tlie  throne,  only 
Boyar6,  or  rich  and  noble  merchants.  The  residences 
of  the  highest  were  but  small  in  those  days  ;  thus  tlie 
I  a"^  ice  of  Jean  the  Terrible  and  of  Demetrius  in  the 
Kremlin  is  also  a  diminutive  building — a  specimen  ol 
the  Muscovite  mansion  of  those  days,  with  its  ])retty, 
I  V  :,uiall  rooms,  like  a  lady's  boudoir  of  the  present 
Cul^.  li  is  elegant  in  form,  simple  in  construction, 
aa  i  rather  _:tii  !.  with  paint.  1;  .  i  ;  ^  i:.  matter  . 
c  1  IK  ihat  the  fondness  for  display  showed  it- IfMn 
tiia:  aj  ,  .vh-  ih  r  among  Muscovite  chiefs,  (-r  in  ^'  d- 
lic  ni;  !  T.'Uton  aii-l  iMin^li  nobles.  Hnrgeon-  U'  sses 
of  l^.^tli  nuai  nnl  wnmen  i-uh-d  tho  h^mw  but   la    Alas- 

u>e^  wa^  a  aa^^i<^n:  aa  i  this  ]'a-~.  _ai 


(  ■       ;  i 


shou.-  iiself  even  uuw  in  the  brilliant  dresshig  of  the 
peasants  who  can  afford  it  on  holida)  >;  aaal  the  lavish 
j  a  Liting  of  the  churches  inside  and  out,  as  well  as  of 

t!a  u  i:;^  a;  1  roofs  of  houses.  Thus  this  little  old 
paaa'e  of  t'i-  Hariks  in  the  K!van!in- 


.1 


111*   ni;  '  a  l-a-'k 


(•(,]]!■   ^^\'   !ao  larie  new  on* 


1  tnp  r 


,  a   bngnl  aaU 


i  i  i 


I  .  r 


L  C        1    «  1 


he  oldcu  time.  It  is  buiii  m  the 
ti:'  1  hqIiIv  Kuijuui  style,  eadi  storey  a  much  smaller 
un.,  iLuii  liiui  brl  -.V  it,  so  that  each  tier  of  rooms  has 


f 


1 


MA'l'V\iyST 


A. 


a\aa 


•J  •) 


!    ila^   anni^t- 


a  ten  ace  m  Iiuil:  u.  il.   aar:  nT  [\,,^  mnf  o 

ments  beneath.     TnL^ia.  arc  iLilc  storevs  to  ti  ;.    ,,, 

,/  '  •  •     •  '  '  ' 

cient  edifice,  each  dimini^hiIi-  ia  ^ize,  so  iLaL  ihe  lup 
one  is  composed  of  but  a  siiai!!  ]  Hi  -i  iwu.  Fium 
this  upper  terrace  Xapoleon  looked  out  over  his  i:nii- 
quest — his  conquest  in  vain — burning  i a  ;.  ilaiice.  ^  )f 
course  there  are  the  usual  accompaniments  of  Ma  f, m 
<inl  chateau — the  grand  haii  .a  !-'a-ption.  t!aa  larize 
apartment  for  foasting,  aa  i  :ho  ]M'(^tty,  'limiaaMvo 
chapel.  These  are  u^-d  uvuu  innv 
great  state  occasii  a  ^     a  *   ' 


va  1      "^1  a  I  i ' '     \'(  I  \' 


la  iJLlUiia  wl::    a 


i  <    ■    ■ 


i ' '   i  a '  i  a( 


jry  c 


r  ti. 


'.u  ai  u.-i  '•  !\  a »;  ^_  za. 


a,i. 


a  ar   to    l];*-    Im--  .^a 

i  X 


r^a 


aa 


all 


aad 


a    a-^age  \\ 

thiiv   'ra-liM' '^larv     inr]iu^r',.^    *  a'  the 

touches  tlmi]-  iiatinTa!-  -ivlln  h.  aad    a'i'-f'ti.ai    f  .>>  f]jr.ir 

lr!a!K;iurS,  links  the  l^ra^oia  waHi   lla^  nnr'an^  (^ox-^    -mrl 


iiJL  C      li  i  < 


]r  'r-ia  rai-  ]"*'\aa'rai«a'^  ^if 


a  v-.-lajiiUi,  tii^^i    aiiiiu::!    laiiaKijai, 


T;uar. 


36 


kh>.  I  resent  Emperor — The  Emperor  Nicholas — F'ntrance  into  Moscow 
by  the  St  Prtersburg  Road — The  Emperor's  Route— Chapel  of  the 
Virmn — i^amous  Picture  of  the  Iberian  Mother — Bonds  of  ^  nn- 
pathy  between  the  Emperor  and  the  People  of  Moscow — His  Ortiio- 
u  A  1  lety — ii  Appreciation  of  Kalatsch — 1  Palace  ci  'i' 
Empress — Devotion  to  the '' Iberian  Mi  her" — Daily  Scenes  ;  r 
Shrine — Sum  annually  collected  by  Voluntary  Offerings — Visits  of 
the  Holy  Mother— The  Benefit  of  a  Common  P.  ligious  Sent i mm t 
—  A      \et  of  Sacrilege — The  Criminal  and  her  I'unishment. 


^PHK   [iosent  Kniperor  of  Ri;--^!.!  seems  to  study  to 


T 


keep  alive  the  feeling  of  reverence  and  regard 

)eople  witli  better  *:n  r    i  hi 


between  liimsel  i' . 


A   A- 


IIP   •'    -access  than  his  father  dul.      1*^  iliap?  he  does 

atA  -tii'lv  ^-^  <!.>  this,  TaiA  what  is  better.  A-r=Q  it  with- 
out rur/  rfT\>!A  or  plnti  — "^olelv  from  :i  ;::i*-:::A  iui\'^i\>c 
ofgooduiil  towarA-  thnse  over  whom  hu  i^  placed 
a-  a  r-il.  v.  W Hichever  be  the  cause,  Aa.i  ^^r  kihdli- 
iif-^,  kiii^K'Wiii  *  r  all.. ability  of  disposition,  the   i-a:   is 


1 


gtAit'Ta!  A     ii^'AIi-  •■'AM^.-'  1^' 


.a'^'-'  A-      Tl;*'  lah'  T/ar 


^ ' 


wa^,   ;a-  n  i .  u lA'*  '^ '.   ;* 


ui 


r.n    ^L^-AiA 


'I         ;_    1    »  k 


r 


^ 


THE  PRESENT  EMPEKOR.  3  ( 

figure  in  the  eyes  of  his  people,  he  was  rather  too  far 
from  them — too  high  and  beyond  their  reach — a  Ju- 
piter Tonans  on  a  towering  Olympus.  He  ^\a:^  ad- 
mired, wondered  at,  almost  worshipped,  bin  Le   vvu^ 

1  aivu,  and  not  loved,  iia  believed  more  la  iVar 
than  in  love,  a  defect  in  the  idiosyncrasy  of  a  possess- 
or of  power,  n  -  the  present  E'iiperor  is  ..  nan  f 
a  kindlv  nature,  and  he  wins  all  the  n;ood-will  of  lis 
people  without  any  display  or  effort — wi  ^  it  Iv  tliat 
tnli^innn  (^f  influence  an;]  M^ti-afti; mi — -r^^a-' aaii;  \ .  Il'j 
goes  often  to  Mu>eow,  ia:  I  \\  a.  a  ihere  1.^  does  xan- 
ous  little  acts  which  sliow  a  sympathy  with  liic  aia-- 
CO  vite  character  and  M  a  SCO  vite  prejudice;  aa  i  \\\.<:\i 
he  goes  away,  he  leaves  no  cluud  on  the  popular 
brow  Avhich  tells  of  discontent — no  memory  of  s  i a^^ 
1  arsh  deed  which  wounds  the  national  feeliaa 

Entering  the  city  by  the  old  ^  Petersburg  coach  r  ad 
and  the  Twerskaia — street  of  Twer — von  n^^m^j^nHi  tlie 
iv.  emlin  through  the  Iversky  Gate,  a  double  gate.  wUwh 
leads  on  to  the  great  market-place  on  the  east  fiaiii  ^ji 
that  fortress.  Altliough  the  railway  fi'*  i '":  P  :ti-haig 
now  brings  you  into  the  city  on  the  south  ta-baa  -  1.  , 
and  ^ a  a'\  a  ['"om  the  old  gate  from  that  coiiial  ai 
fi  r  a,  ;t].    vest,  yet  the  Emperor  never  omits  to  lake 


rMmiitous  route  along  the  Boulevard 


aiitar 


I 


I' 


fl' 


38 


THE  IBERIAN  MOTHER. 


the  Kremlin  on  his  arrival  through  that  i\>rta  Sacra, 
the  Iversky  Gate.  It  is  in  this  gateway,  or  rather  on 
the  outside  of  it,  on  its  northern  front,  stands  the  little 
Tj:  ipel  oftlie  Virgin,  here  called  the  Iberian  Mother 
ui  OuJ.  li  li  but  a  diminutive  building,  perhaps 
twelve  feet  square,  of  stone,  plain  and  unpretending 
1  u:^ide,  and  about  the  size  of  a  small  turnpike  gate- 
]..  use  in  Endand  1  rom  the  centre  of  it  there  inn-  n^ 
a  stone  platform  of  perhaps  twenty  feet  in  length  nnl 
linriiiL!'  -«n  tliroe  sides  to  the  street  n  ^lescent  r^f  four 
or  fivp  «top^      Tlv^   interior  is  highly  deconuv d   \v\\U 


i"i '  I 


1]   ;.  .  uua  >j,ia^^,  votive  offerings 


i  i- 


Oil-   liii'UU-,  ;!'.'  1   :^' 


' ar  ;  uii: i  liicre  is 


-aLL    ''r 


1.1  '-I-  * 


UiC 


1         1  '   '  1 


1  '  '  -  '  1  '  !  >    1 

'it      .         t  <  1  1      i 


I ' 


back^-fi:.  -\--r  the  altar,  i-  ihefaiU'-.;-  ,,*.';:•-..*'  tiie 
Tl.  r:au  Alother.     Beside  it   rwavs  staial  one    a-  !^v- 

Giv,  kanests.  The  painting  is  Iv/zantino.  a'al  v.--. 
hrmi--',-  ],.^r,  f'-:  ^!!i  M.^unt  .\i!!<~'- in  the  rei<^n  -T  Hm 
On    \^  xia      An  extraordinarv  rf'^r  ^t,  or  it  mav  be 

caH.  a  \'  laaMn^ii.  i«  offered  to  thi>  picture,  iaaaii  i)c- 
vra:  1  u,:it  to  'AVi\  ^nher  in  Moscow,  fn   ai  ai;  luaiia-  <A 


thr 


ii'jia-  ar 


to  be  s^en  beiaiin 


ivliL'Ciia_    ill     Uil 


a  aa a ,  ^  >x  >  ^a  I  la 


LilL' 


'  i       Lilt'     ». 


,  or  on  1: 


Ai^       rl 


l!aa\  it   1-    -:i 


lone  so  auta-.    \'''  -a-L^T- 
"1    '1  at  it   has    bec<aM  • 


\ 


THE  CZAR  S  PIETY. 


39 


one  of  the    most    important   existences    in   Moscow. 

It  is  to  pass  through  tliis  gate  on  each  arrival  in 

this  city  that  the  Emperor  goes  out  of  his  way  from 

the  railway-station  to  tlu    i\    ^nlin.     On  approaching 

the  phitform,  his  carriage  stops  ;  lie  gets  out,  uncovers 

his    head,   enters  the  little  chapel,    anH    kiioels,  the 

world  of  Moscow  looking  on,  impressed  by  the  act  to 

the  bottom   of  its  devotional  soul,      il^    comes  out, 

mounts    his   carriage,    and    proceeds.      The    effect    is 

amazing.     To  be  remiss  on  this  point — to  omit      a- 

act — would  be  a  great  pohtical  mistake.    Tlie  pro'  fit 

affords  to  all  eves  of  the  reliuious  mind  of  their  Czar 

— the  exami)le  it  sets  to  each  ;in  1   all    hi<  ^^^nlmrt^  in 

high   places  not   to  be  wanting    ia  \.ai(a;a     a    lu   Uiu 

Iberian  Mother — and  then,  uol  the  least  ai  \\:\>  caUi- 

logue  of  social   advantages,   the  deference   wi.a  ii   a^j 

thus  pays  to  the  local  prejudice   aa  1  the  stron-  i     1- 

ing  in  this  matter  of  the  people  of  ^J  -     -'  itself-  a  1 

these  combine  to  surround  this  act  with  a  very  -  a"  ms 

and  important  sense.     It  is  a  bond     f  ;i'^a<  hia.  at  1m  - 

tween  the  Czar  and   the  Russiaa  niiial  <>r  'kr  1 -op^M^ 

meaning  and  influence  than  any  coninm]!   ta      1 

political  conn' xion  or  liking. 

i  lore  L>  another  act,    nnparently  trifling  iii 


ar ai  s 


h  M'  ii. 


uaa    wa    having    d    j)cculiar  signitii:aai  >  ,    waaiai    _^  h^ 


40 


KALATSCH, 


CHAPEL  OF  THE  IBERIAN  MOTHER. 


41 


to  show  the  kindly  thought  of  the  Emperor  in  his 
coraTnunication  with  the  inhabitants  of  Moscow,  and  is 
a  proof  of  how  he  has  known  to  gain  a  hold  on  their 
affections.  There  is  a  small  and  fanciful  form  in  which 
bread  is  made  up  at  Moscow.  It  is  not  a  loaf,  it  is  not 
a  roll,  it  is  of  a  circular  form,  and  is  hollow,  as  some 
French  bread  is  made,  and  is  called  a  kalatsch.  You 
may  see  a  baker's  boy  in  the  street  with  twenty  or  thir- 
ty of  these  strung  on  a  stick,  or  you  may  see  fifty  on  a 
cord  suspended  in  a  shop.  It  is  rather  larger  in  diame- 
ter than  a  quoit,  and  the  thickness  of  the  bread  is  not 
much  more  than  that  of  the  iron.  This  kalatsch  is  the 
bread  and  the  form  peciriiar  to  Moscow.  The  bread 
is  light  and  sweet.  When  the  Czar  sits  down  to  table 
in  th  !\  ^^mlin  he  asks  for  a  kalatsch  ;  and  you  may 
fi-  li  the  common  Russian  repeat  with  pride — ^'the 
i  z.ii  always  eats  kalatsch  at  dinner  in  the  Kremlin." 
The  fact  of  the  present  Empress  having  a  pretty  coun- 
ny  I  (Lice  and  estate — another  ''my  own  " — at  a  place 
o:iM.  1  Tlyinsk,  about  thirty  miles  from  M  -scow,  and 
wliich  she  likes  to  come  to  frequently,  is  another  bond 
between  the  family  and  the  ^loscow  worl  1  «  Vie  day, 
in  one  of  the  long  passages  of  the  W*viter  Palace  a^  ^' 
l^L^x^u  n  J.  !  ;i  i  whole  pile  of  boxes  nnd  trunks, 
ar[>cirtiiu)  ju:^t  off  a  journey,  and   n    servant  or  two, 


in  the  Imperial  livery,  very  active  about  them.  In  re- 
ply to  my  question — a  traveller  asks  all  sorts  of  ques- 
tions, of  course — one  of  the  men  answered  readily, 

''  Tliese  are  from  Ilyinsk — the  Empress  is  just  come 
up  from  there  ;  she  is  very  fond  of  going  to  Ilyinsk." 

To  return  to  the  little  Chapel  of  the  Iberian  Mo- 
ther. It  was  a  practice  with  me,  on  my  return  from 
any  walk  on  that  northern  side  of  Moscow,  to  stop  by 
this  Iversky  Gate,  and  sit  down  on  a  low  railing  by  a 
little  grassy  inclosure,  the  ground  sloping  down  aud 
spreading  wide  and  open  to  the  boulevard  in  front  of 
me.  It  was  an  airy  and  shady  spot,  a  pleasant 
resting-place  after  a  long  walk,  and,  moreover,  one 
of  a  curious  attraction.  Immediatelv  bv  me  was  a 
long,  low  building  by  the  grass,  and  which  projected 
a  little  from  a  loftv  white  castellated  edifice,  some 
Government  Ofiices.  In  this  low  spur  or  projection 
lived  the  ecclesiastics  who  had  the  care  of  the  Iversky 
picture  and  chapel,  and  here  they  took  care  of  the 
money  constantly  pouring  into  the  coffers  of  the 
Iberian  Motlier  close  by.  One  day  was  like  another. 
A !  riving  at  my  seat,  1  would  find  two  or  three  women, 
sitting,  too,  on  the  low  rail,  resting  themselves  from 
their  country  walk,  and  watching  the  s- .'n.\  <  r  n-- 
rancnng  their  dress,   and   geuiug   reads,    i     i  •    ^ome 


\\ 


42 


STREAM  OF  DEVOTEES. 


RECOGNIZED  FORM  OF  VENERATION. 


43 


small  treasury  among  their  garments,  the  piece  of 
money — a  kopeck — for  the  Iberian  ^Mother.  From  the 
wide  open  boulevard,  from  the  Twerskaia,  from  the 
Alexander  Gardens,  from  the  Kremlin,  would  arrive 
all  kinds  of  carriages  converging  at  this  point — the 
chapel  and  the  gateway.  Business  men  from  the  Law 
Courts,  ladies  and  children  from  the  aristocratic 
quarter  in  the  Beloi  Gorod,  people  from  the  country 
in  quaint  vehicles  of  the  rudest  Tarantass  build,  pea- 
sants on  foot,  officers  in  droschkies,  men  of  commerce 
on  their  way  from  the  debtors'  prison,  hard  by  on  the 
boulevard,  where  they  had  been  to  see  their  victim 
and  hear  if  any  new  chance  of  payment  had  turned 
up,  and  now  on  their  w^ay  into  the  Kitai  Gorod  in 
money-making  interest — all  stopped  at  the  platform. 
^  my  side  the  stream  flowed  steadily  throuij^h  the  one 
gateway  on  to  the  market-place  beyond,  while  on  the 
other  side  it  came  out  from  the  farther  gateway  on  to 
the  open  boulevard.  It  could  not  but  strike  you  what 
an  able  position  the  Iberian  Mother  had  taken  up — 
the  most  commanding  one  in  the  whole  city.  Xotliing 
escaped  her ;  it  w^as  all  fish  that  came  to  her  net. 
\-  y,  the  very  best  and  cheapest  dining-liouses  of  the 
merchants  wave  just  across  the  broad  boulevard  with- 
in sight,  and  the  straight  road  from  their  early  dinner- 


table  to  the  exchange  was  through  this  gate.  Here 
they  drove  up  '^  pleni  veteris  Bacchi  pinguisque  fe- 
rinae," — dined  on  wild  boar  and  sparkling  champagne 
— and  how  should  not  their  hearts  be  open  to  all 
warm  influences,  devotion  to  the  Iberian  Mother,  and 
expenditure  of  roubles.  So  they  all  came  up  to  the 
little  platform. 

One  afternoon  I  sat  there  as  usual, — and  as  usual 
the  stream  of  devotees  never  ceased.  Sometimes  the 
whole  platform  and  some  of  the  steps  Avere  occupied 
by  kneeling  people ;  and  then  the  whole  would  clear 
away,  until  only  three  or  four  persons  would  remain, 
sprinkled  singly  over  the  place  on  their  knees,  to  be 
succeeded  again  by  bareheaded  and  prostrate  numbers. 
A  great  numy  gave  nothing — that  is,  no  money — 
there  is  a  limit  to  giving,  even  to  the  Iberian  Mother 
— they  came  up,  kneeled  down,  said  a  prayer,  crossed 
themselves  three  times,  which  seemed  to  be  the  re- 
cognised form  or  mark  of  veneration,  and  went  on. 
Now  an  officer,  big  and  important,  with  helmet  and 
cloak  over  his  uniform,  dashed  up  in  his  neat  private 
droschky,  driven,  of  course,  by  his  body  coachman  in 
blue  dressing-gowm  and  wide-brimmed  hat,  the  horse 
a  black  Arab-looking  animal,  sleek  and  shining,  of 
South  Russian  breed,  a  trotter — and  the  harness  stud- 


■^. 


44 


PEASANTS  AT  THE  SHUINE. 


A  PROFESSIONAL  MAN  S  DEVOTION. 


45 


II 


ded  with  silver.  The  droschky  stopped,  the  coachman 
unwound  his  right  hand  from  its  rein — a  Russian  coach- 
man drives  with  a  rein  in  each  hand,  wound  round 
it — and  uncovered;  the  officer  also  uncovered  and 
crossed  himself,  but  sat  still.  At  a  word  from  behind 
him  the  driver  let  the  horse  go  on  at  a  foot's  pace  by 
the  platform ;  the  officer  crossed  himself  again  three 
times,  the  driver  crossed  himself,  too,  as  often — they 
both  covered  their  heads,  and  the  droschky  and  the 
black  Arab  dashed  through  the  archway,  and  were 
gone. 

Then  arrived  a  party  of  peasant  women*  and  men  on 
foot,  ten  or  twelve — the  men  in  white  woollen  coats, 
sewn  at  the  seams  with  red,  and  the  women  witli  red 
and  black  shawls.  Some  kneeled  on  the  platform, 
and  some  on  the  steps.  After  many  self-crossings  there 
came  the  moment  of  departure,  and  with  it  the  question 
of  money.  Some  had  clearly  by  their  manner  no  ko- 
pecks to  spare,  but  with  others  there  was  a  consulting 
too^ether.  One  man  was  for  TOino;  away  witliout  ^rivinar 
anything,  but  a  woman  touched  his  arm  and  wliispered 
to  him,  and  then  three  or  four  heads  went  together. 
**  How  much  shall  we  give  ?"  ^'  What  have  you  got  ?" 
"  Will  that  be  enough  ?"  These  were  evidently  the 
matters  in  debate.  The  pockets  were  dived  into,  kopecks 


i 
i 


I 


!i 


came  forth  from  the  male  garments  under  female  press- 
ure, and  at  last  two  of  tlie  women  agreed  to  go  into  the 
chapel  for  the  party  and  make  the  united  humble  offer- 
ing. By  tills  time  many  others  had  arrived,  and  much 
ado  the  women  had  to  get  through  the  kneeling  crowd. 
A  lady  or  two  in  silken  attire  had  placed  themselves 
on  their  knees  precisely  in  the  opening,  and  there  was 
no  way  of  getting  into  the  chapel  except  over  their 
voluminous  dresses.  Of  course  the  poor  women  could 
not  do  this,  so  they  Avaited  patiently  till  ''  the  quality" 
liad  prayed  and  entered  the  shrine  with  their  offerings, 
and  then  the  women  got  in.  Presently  they  returned 
with  satisfied  countenances,  for  they  had  seen  the 
Iberian  Mother,  and  had  laid  before  her  a  little  some- 
thing out  of  the  home  treasury,  and  a  bit  of  their  hearts 
besides.  So  they  joined  their  companions,  all  waiting 
uncovered  and  with  bent  heads  on  the  steps,  and  all 
went  off  together  through  the  archway — happy. 

Then  arrived  a  hired  droschky,  and  atall,  middle-aged 
man  with  a  white  face  got  down.  He  was  well-dressed, 
in  a  dark  frock-coat  and  grey  trowsers,  and  scrupu- 
lously bright  boots.  By  his  dress  he  might  have  been 
a  member  of  our  House  of  Commons,  or  an  IA.lK  i 
made  a  guess  that  he  was  a  lawyer,  and  had  just  come 
from  5ome  client  in  the  debtors'  prison  round  the  cor- 


46 


A  YOUNG  PARTY. 


REAL  DEVOTION. 


47 


ner  of  the  boulevard.  He  stepped  gravely  from  his 
little  carriage,  walked  up  the  steps,  uncovered,  and 
made  his  way  carefully  and  slowly  among  the  kneeling 
women,  disturbing  no  one.  How  politely  and  un- 
offendingly  he  advanced,  his  manner  so  thoroughly 
that  of  the  man  who  deals  daily  with  courteous  and 
silvery  phrases  wrapping  up  very  unpleasant  truths, 
gilding  bitter  pills  legally  or  medically  compounded. 
iic  kneeled  down  with  an  air  of  the  deepest  humility 
close  to  the  door  of  the  shrine,  bent  his  head  for  a 
minute  or  two  over  his  folded  hands,  then  rose  and 
went  in  and  made  his  offering.  On  coming  out  he 
repeated  his  act  of  abasement,  and  then  going  down 
the  steps  with  the  same  careful,  gliding  movement,  he 
got  into  his  droschky,  the  white  face  unmoved,  and 

was  gone. 

Aparty  of  well-dressed  children  came  rapidly  up  with 
a  couple  of  nurses  in  a  well-built  and  well-turned-out 
Tarantass.  I  was  curious  to  see  how  this  young  party 
would  conduct  theii'  devotions  under  nursery  guidance. 
But  to  my  disappointment  they  did  not  stop.  The 
coachman  uncovered,  and  walked  his  well-bred  horses 
by  the  platform,  the  women  made  the  boys  take  off 
their  neat  little  caps — all  bowed  their  heads  and  crossed 
themselves,  nurses  and  children;   but  they  went  on, 


and  in  a  moment  were  dashing  through  the  arch. 
Then  a  stout  young  man,  dandily  dressed  and  with 
face  rather  Hushed,  drove  up,  or  rather  was  driven  up, 
as  a  Russian  gentleman  very  rarely  drives  himself. 
He  looked  as  thougli  just  risen  from  partaking  of  the 
''  pinguis  feriua  *'  on  the  boulevard  and  the  Falernian. 
He  jumped  jauntily  down  from  his  silver-mounted 
droschky,  took  off  liis  hat,  hurried  in  a  bustling  manner 
up  the  steps  and  along  the  platform,  in  and  out  among 
the  prayer-absorbed  figures,  dropped  on  one  knee  for 
a  moment  at  the  entrance,  went  in,  returned  quickly, 
down  the  steps  and  into  his  carriage,  and  was  gone  in 
an  histanl. 

And  so  it  went  on,  this  living,  moving  panorama  of 
real  life.  Sonie  peasant  man  would  kneel  only  on  the 
bottom  step,  languid  and  careworn  in  manner  and  a^i- 
pearance,  as  if  he  had  a  hard  life,  and  not  much  hope 
of  making  it  softer  b>'  any  act  of  his,  not  even  with 
the  aid  of  a  httle  offering  hi  that  chapel,  and  so  he 
made  none.  Two  poor  women,  too,  came  and  kneeled 
down  on  the  lower  steps,  and  then  leaned  their  fore- 
heads on  the  step  above  them.  The  attitude  and  ex- 
pression of  the  figures  denoted  the  deepest  devotion, 
and  a  real  sorrow  wliich  weiglied  them  down.  There 
they  knelt  for  some  minutes,  their  heads  pressed  against 


48 


SUM  ANNUALLY  COLLECTED. 


BOND  OF  UNION. 


49 


(•/ 


the  stones,  as  if  telling  out  all  the  sad  tale  of  their  life 
to  the  Iberian  Mother,  no  doubt  with  a  faith  that  she 
could  hear  it  all,  and,  if  she  would,  could  alleviate  the 
pain.     Ah  !   well !  it    is  a  thing   not  to  be  laughed 
away,  a  prop  to  lean  on— to  be  able  to  feel  in  this 
world  an  undoubting  faith  in  something,  whatever  it  is. 
It  is  declared  that  this  little  slirine  collects  in  the 
course   of  the   year   a   sum   equal   to  ten  thousand 
English  pounds  sterling  from   these  daily  and  other 
r.fr  v^i^cTs      l\  U  nlso  said  that  a  large  portion  of  this 
^iini  is  used  to  pay  the  stipend  of  th*    \i   tropolitan  of 
M   scow.     It  is  moreover  whispered,  under  the  rose, 
tilt  the  Iberiiu.   M   ther  possesses  a  little  treasury  of 
her  own,  and  that  when  a  thousand  pounds  or  so  are 
.1  anted  in  the  city  for  secular  purposes  the   governing 
bodies  do  not  make  application  at  the  shrine  in  vain. 

There  is  a  method  very  pecuhar  to  the  Mother  of 
adding  to  her  treasure.  She  makes  visits.  So  fer- 
■  vent  is  the  devotion  of  the  :dascovite  mind  to  this 
**lndy  of  Mount  Auios,"  and  so  profound  the  belief  in 
her  -  .od  deeds,  that  much  of  her  time  is  taken  up  in 
goih^  a 'out  in  her  carriage  to  various  houses.  Thus  a 
carriage  and  four  horses  are  kept  for  her  use.  If  a 
f  oY^  iiouse  is  built  by  a  true  Russian  of  Muscow  a 
request  is  made  by  the  owner  that,  before  he  and  his 


family  occupy  it,  the  Mother  may  come  and  give  it  a 
blessing.  Accordingly  the  picture  goes  in  state.  A 
person  is  seriously  ill,  and  the  picture  is  requested,  as 
a  means  of  cure.  Another  is  dying,  and  the  picture 
is  entreated  to  come,  as  a  last  blessing.  A  couple 
are  going  to  be  married,  and  the  picture  must  form  a 
part  of  the  ceremony  or  the  bride  will  have  fears  for 
her  future  life.  Thus  sums  such  as  Ilu  ij ubies, 
twenty  roubles,  a  luuili  i  roubles — sums  u[ 
^^venty  poir-V— are  jki'-I  r.-:v]]'\  :..  -li.^  ^[.-lia  i 
conferring  these  distinguished  favours  and  Li 
benefits,  according  to  the  rank  or  wealth  -  f  H 
tionor.     There  is,  1    wa.^  u^. 


)        i; 


'  5  -, .  r 


i , 


% 


for  tlie  picture,  and  this  sometimes  so  often  i  i  i  i  r.- 
that  a  refusal  is  sent,  thus — ''The  Mother  is  fatigued 
to-day,  and  cannot  come." 

It  nmst  be  expected  that  there  will  be  abuse  of  a 
feeling  of  this  kind.  But,  after  all,  is  it  not  a  happi- 
ness, and  something  more — a  necessity,  that  there 
should  exist  a  sentiment  in  which  a  nation  can  join, 
can  combine  ?  Here  is  an  immense  country,  Russia, 
spreading  over  a  wide  expanse,  inhabited  by  peoples 
of  various  blood  and  race.  Is  it  not  an  important 
thing  that  there  should  be  a  bond — some  one  bond — 
by  which  all  these  differing  bodies  of  peoples  may  be 

£ 


50 


NECESSITY  OF  A  COMMON  SENTIMENT. 


1 


I 


united,  so  as  to  give  the  whole  a  cohesion  and  a  force  ? 
Many  of  these  scattered  populations,  lymg  far  away 
from  all  the  highways  of  the  civiUsed  world,  immersed 
in  ignorance,  and  living  the  life  of  serfs  till  lately— 
1  ]  ictically  slaves,  as  a  general  rule — what  should  act 
on  these  for  the  good  of  any  one?  W1uit  should 
mvo  tlioiii  Olio  olmjuii-  thought:      1^  there  lUijiiiing 

lirious   sentiment  r     aliy- 


)]  1 1,  i  >;    <( >    qt  j 


•A-    u     ru 


:,(.   liinw'i-ul   Hi  iir   action?     Even    a   ,m  i-^ual 


:fliLi!ia/iiI      liA\ai'v 


a>  ii  i-,  i-  less  S( a.  L 


tla-    -vaiUiiaaii    whuii    r; 


\  *     I  '  ■;„  .  1  , 


<  -!!ii  niil\\:jL 


(^>h.  M\-»-.   th:ni 


lu. 


an    !  ><'      (Ml-* 


"m1     «  ni 


I      I  1<  < 


ra-i'-n    t'* 


li!  •/     t  •'! 


faiiatici-iri  aii'l  ^dt'-iniiia 'lata  ai.  l^'iiIia-  rciji 
cati<»n.  -oiiic  liuK'  kia 'wlt'ili^-c.  -...mc  i'r'a-«  aiing  aii'! 
ai'miiiu'iit  ;  l>ut  a  staitiiii^  lil  rrqiiirr-  iiu  i\-a-uu  au«l  ii" 
arguiiioiii — iLi»lliiiiL:  Ijui  a  lu-arl.  'V\\^-  i_i'ralrr  the 
aniouiit  of  iu'ian'aiKa',  tma,  lu  da-  hram,  ilu- ;jrraha' llu- 
hilkieiice  that  can  l)i'  ('Xrrt("'<l  md  thf  lu'art.  Tlui-  \]\c 
Russian  populari(ni>,  l)iirir(l  in  ilu'  (K^i^th-  .»!  ihr  -raat 
Continent,  on  the  confine^  ot"  savage  Europe,  aial  ^till 
more  savae'e  Asia,  oTiavellin.a"  in  tlie  lowest  huniaintv 
and  in  tlu"^  rudest  wa\'S  of  hile.  wluit  a  bics-ingto  them 
tc)  have  oflered  in  tlic-ir  aiiections — nni  politie-,  raal 
reasoning,  not  edueatmn.  with  its  imp"--il)ihti(.'-  !•» 
man\' — but  a  -raitimenl. 


< ' ' 


SACKILEGE. 


51 


There  is  a  story  related  of  this  little  chapel  at  the 
Iversky  Gate.  There  was  a  large  diamond  in  the 
dress  of  the  Iberian  Mother,  and  one  day  it  disap- 
peared. Of  course  there  was  a  tremendous  commo- 
tion in  Moscow.  The  Mother  had  been  robbed. 
^^  liat  a  sacrilege  !  After  a  time  the  jewel  \\  a-  i  ac.  1 
to  the  hands  of  a  Russian  lady,  a  i  -inber  of  one  of 
the  !)]'!iicel\'  nimilies.     ^!:<Oahl  coveted  ;hi-  'ianiaai'l. 


aiai   >^ 


*  1  '  ! 


!ia'i  iiianac^of 


1   r, 


->    ex- 


!  I 


■iiiiiu:. 


Evrvv  iAunx 


w  a^     aaiUf    ij\     IilI     laanK     lo    iU\  u    her    !r<aii    liv'.i\-v 
aihi-hha  hi.  \n\\  ill    xaiii.      Had  U    Imm^h    a    nioro   rob- 


1 

b.  r\   ..f   ii  (liaiaMh-l  tViaii  saa;  reu--iau  la<!\'  b\"  auotlier 

lh<^  wli.uf  iliiiig  w.^ulb  ha\a'  been  ti-oatod  a<  a  triilo  ; 
bua    fr-M!!    a    -Iniia"*.    aii<l    na'a-e    e-|)e(ianv   from   llie 

llHi'ia!!  MaJiri-.  liii-  \\;iv  too  iiiu'di.  All  tlhj  l)o<aple 
el  ^b<^(a)^^■,  and  biVtaid  it.  ^voro  cnneca'Urd  in  the 
nauitr — <>nu  wdia'h  tiau'hod.  iluar  doarest  aHoetiiais, 
thoir  doNniion,  tin'  one  deep  and  perxading  senti- 
miaU.  The  prineos  was  condemned  to  Siberia,  and 
slic  was  sent  there  ibr  life. 

The  pa^ionate  sentiment  of  a  |)eo])le  is  too  grand 
aial  Ino  useful  an  (aigiiie  of  power  as  a  ].)ond  of  so- 
caay  to  in,'  uegK-eied  <  T  woinid(j(l  witli  im])unit\'.  A 
t\raiU  leai'-  il.  but  a  -lah-man    u-o   it.      I  (\(^  ia>t    l)e- 

V 


It< 


.1 


USEFUL  ENGINE  OF  POWER. 


lieve  that  in  any  otlier  spot  in  Europe  such  a  scene 
Witnessed  as  is  enacted  daily  at  that  httle  chapel 


t_  a.i  LH. 


h-   tl...    ], 


•ite  ill  M  scow. 


53 


*^   1  1     \  1  '    1    |-,  It       \    . 

A   '""  :1k  in  Moscow  and  its  Environs— Church  of  St.  S  nuv  ir--  rnrions 
Little   Chapel— Cavalry   Barracks— Inconvenient   Po^n      =      ♦    ihe 
Horses  in  the  Stables — Something  like  ;i  P  i     n  J  Anr  !'     <     in- 
vntion  of  a  small  Gourd  used  i  y  li.j  K  i  m  .u       \\    :u.  u  :d  W    !k 
\  iaissian  Gardener  and  his  Subordinates — The  1  * 
—Ihe  External  Wall  and  Towers— The  Church,  r> 
Burial  Places — The  Congregation  and  Service-  'V\u 
Dispersion  of  the  Congregation — "  Une  Affaire    1 
Papa. 


1 


you  walk  down  the  public  gai  i  n     ilii    Ai  xai] 
der  Garden — running  undci  'lo  lofty  wall    oi  -li 


...1 


north  side  of  the  Kremlin,  you  a  * 

the  bank  of  the  river.     You  turn  to  t^.    iicrlit  al- 

the  roo'l  until  you  come  to  tho  stone   n 

ston'l  of  going  over  it  y<  u  id^  y 

Church.     It  is  the  iiio^i  ^piuudid  lu  Ai 


on 


i  n  nr 


b}'  liiu    bl.  >.tu\"*';ir 


-LA,M\ 


UUiiL    IvJ 


coiuiuemorate  the  defeat  ui  Napoleon.      I  \\     -r  nr.  n 
la!  *  1   \ai  a     I'rom  the  church  you  .r-  Ira   lal   the 
shops  and  the  higher  building,  nn  1  ■  n  nun   yin-<  It 
in  a  br  n  1  open  street  with  houses  on  eit^a  i  1  a^al     f 


.  w> 


54 


WALK  IN  THE  ENVIRONS. 


the  cottage  character.  They  stand  back  from  the 
public  way  iii  gardens — pretty  villas,  here  of  one 
storey  elevation  and  there  of  only  the  raised  ground- 
fl(jor,  with  the  usual  verandah.  As  you  go  on  the 
cross  streets  are  of  the  same  style.  By  degrees  al- 
most all  sound  of  carriages  ceases.  A  solitary  private 
droschky  is  seen  only  rarely  standing  at  some  gate; 
the  doors  are  all  open,  and  the  servants  are  lounging 
about  in  conversation  Avith  their  friends  of  the  neigh- 
bouring villas.  In  many  cases  the  railings  in  front 
are  of  open  work,  and  you  can  see  through  them  the 
children  at  play  and  the  ladies  sitting  at  tables  at 
work  under  the  shade  of  trees.  You  are  in  the  great 
capital,  but  it  is  as  quiet  and  as  briglit  as  if  you  were 
miles  away  from  it.  After  a  mile  or  so  of  this  you 
see  the  open  country  in  front  of  you.  There  is  no 
gate  or  barrier.  A  church  stands  at  the  extremity  of 
the  buildings — a  curious  and  elaborate  specimen  of 
the  Russian  ecclesiastical  edifice.  It  is  a  small  thino\ 
and  it  stands  on  its  little  elevated  rise  of  ground  with 
a  flight  of  steps  up  to  the  door,  and  a  few  clipped 
lime-trees  are  on  the  slope  of  the  bank.  ^^  course 
there  are  the  five  cupolas.  Looking  at  it,  you  hardly 
know  whether  to  smile  or  be  serious.  It  is  a  church, 
and  so  you  should  be  the  latter  ;  but  it   is  a  diminu- 


BARRACKS  AND  STABLES. 


55 


tive,  heavy,  quaint,  fanciful  structure,  rather  crushed 
by  its  five  cupolas,  and  these  and  its  walls  and  tower 
are  all  glaring  in  masses  of  colour.  Deep  blue  walls, 
green  roof,  and  red  cupolas,  and  all  these  are  in 
broad  masses  of  strong  deep  colours.  You  are  get- 
ting accustomed  to  all  kinds  of  singular  buildings  as 
churches  with  the  strangest  ornamentation ;  but  this 
is  an  outrageous  instance  of  the  kind — a  flagrant  sin 
against  taste  in  colouring.  Probably  the  papa  was 
addicted  to  painting,  and  when  the  day  of  painting 
came  round  backed  his  own  fancy  in  the  mingling  of 
colours  against  the  artist  world  of  Moscow.  How- 
ever, artistic  taste  in  painting  is  yet  allowed  to  be 
rather  in  its  infancy  in  Russia. 

A  broad  grass  track,  in  the  middle  of  which  was  a 
rough  country  road,  led  me  on,  and  presently  I  came 
to  an  immense  building,  white,  of  brick  plastered.  It 
was  a  cavalry  barrack,  and  empty.  Only  a  few  wo- 
men and  children  were  about,  and  men  inside  were 
whitewashing  the  interior.  Through  the  low  open 
windows  I  could  see  the  endless  lines  of  stalls.  It  is 
a  rule  in  Russia  to  build  the  stables  with  the  windows 
very  low  down,  and  then  to  have  the  rack  and  man- 
ger frequently  in  the  very  window.  The  horse  must 
stand   all  day  long  with  the  strong  glare  of  the  light, 


56 


GAKDENS  AND  HOUSES. 


and  if  on  the  south  side,  of  the  sun,  riglit  in  his  eyes. 
I  suggested  to  various  Russians  that  this  must  be  very 
fatiguing  to  the  horses,  and  bad,  too,  for  the  eyes, 
but,  as  Charles  Mattliews  says,  ''  they  did  not  see  it." 
When  I  asked  them — If  you  yourself  come  in  tired, 
do  you  not  find  a  corner  awav  from  the  sun  refresh- 
ing? — you   are  unwell,  do   you  not   like    a  shaded 
room  ?     Do  you  not  find  a  glare  in  your  eyes  at  any 
time  dazzling?     Here  are  your  horses  tied  up  in  tlie 
very  blaze  of  light,  and  cannot  get  away  from  it.    But 
"  they  did  not  see  it  " — the  liorses  were  accustomed 
to  it.     These  cavalry  barracks  were  built  in  tliis  way. 
On  beyond  the  barrack  were  ""ardens  with   occa- 
sional   small    houses  scatttered   about   among  them. 
Some  of  these  were  only  gardeners'  cottages,  of  wood, 
but  others  were  evidently  the  residences  of  families, 
enclosed  in  two  or  three  acres  of  orcliard  and  pasture 
and  belt  of  trees.       A  rude  kind  of  grass  track  led 
among  these,     ^iie  of  them   pretended  to  ponds  and 
a    summer-house    and    water    carried    along    in    a 
winding    ornamental    way,    through    some    coppice 
wood,    with    a    rustic    bridge    over    it.      A    younf^ 
woman  with  two  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,   came 
out    from    one    of   tlie    houses,    with  a   small   doL' 
the  boy  dressed,  of  course,  in  his  red  cotton   tunic 


SERVANT  AND  CHILDREN. 


57 


and  long  black  boots — the  little  gentry  of  the  place 
with  their  servant.  They  all  came  up  the  path  gaily, 
till  the  dog  saw  me  sitting  on  a  rail  in  the  shade  of  the 
coppice,  and  then  he  sniffed  at  me  timidly  with  his 
nose  in  the  air  from  twenty  yards  distance,  and  not 
then  liking  the  look  of  matters,  or  something  that 
told  liis  nose  I  was  not  of  his  country,  arid  therefore 
an  enemy  seeking  the  lives  of  dogs  in  general  and  his 
own  in  particular,  he  turned  tail,  and  fled  without  a 
word  into  the  shelter  of  the  domain,  careless  of  all 
appearances.  The  maiden  regarding  this  as  a  warning 
of  some  very  serious  danger  threatening  the  young 
heir  in  boots,  and  the  little  girl,  and  also  her  own 
precious  person,  caught  up  the  little  girl,  and  fled 
from  me  in  dismay.  Considering  how  very  near  we 
were  to  the  capital  I  thought  it  was  a  strange  proceed- 
ing, reflecting  on  my  personal  appearance.  Did  I  look 
like  a  garotter? 

Going  on,  I  found  a  wide  plain  of  gardens  stretch- 
ing away  to  the  river,  a  dead  flat  of  a  mile  or  more^ 
at  the  foot  of  the  line  of  the  Sparrow  Hills.  People 
were  at  work  in  all  directions.  Small  gardeners' 
huts  were  scattered  about  everywhere  on  the  open 
plains.  Soon  I  came  up  to  an  immense  field  of  the 
small  gourd  which  the  Russians  eat  with  almost  every- 


58 


PICKING  GOURDS  FOR  MARKET. 


MEN  AND  WOMEN  AT  WORK. 


59 


thing.     There  were  acres  of  this  small  vegetable.      It 
is  of  a  green  and  yellow  colour  when  ripe,  about  three 
to  four  inches  in  length,  and  has  the  taste  of  a  mild 
cucumber.     The   common  people   almost  live  on  it. 
Here  were  parties  of  women  picking  them   in  baskets, 
with  one  man  to  each  line  of  eight  or  ten  women,  per- 
haps to  overlook  them.     The  vegetable  grew  in  long 
regular  rows  and  the  women  were  marshalled  in  line 
between  the  rows.      They  were  all  decently  dressed, 
except  that  none  wore  shoes  or  stockings.     Those  are 
commonly   superfluities  in  Russia  with   the    peasant 
women  in  the  summer  time.     As  I  approached,  their 
heads  all  bent  down  at  their  work,  occasionallv  a 
voice  would  strike  out  three  or  four  words  of  some 
song,  and  then,  after  a  pause  and  a  little  broken  talk, 
another  would  do  the  same.     A  hundred  yards  l)e- 
fore  them  was  a  small  house,  and  there  was  the  gar- 
dener with  two  or  three  men,  horses  in  tlieir  liarness 
hitched  up  to  the  out-houses,  and  two  or  three   carts, 
and  heaps  of  the  gourds  lying  about  on  the  ground  by 
them.  They  were  packing  them  for  the  Moscow  market 
the  next  morning.     The  whole  scene  carried  me  back 
at  once  to  the  early  days  when  I  lived  by  the  Thames, 
not  far  from  Kew  Bridge,  where  in  the  neighbourhood 
the  gardens  flourish  which  send  their  supplies,  as  here. 


11 


I 


to  the  market  of  the  Capital.  I  was  too  far  off  to  dis- 
tinguish the  features  of  the  women,  tliough  when  one 
discovered  me  and  told  lier  companions,  of  course  they 
all  struck  work  and  had  a  good  long  stare  at  the  stran- 
ger. But  they  did  not  consider  me  a  garotter  and  fly. 
However,  remembering  the  women  in  the  Chiswick 
Gardens,  and  that  beauty  was  a  rare  plant  among  the 
human  part  of  those  precincts,  and  knowing,  likewise, 
that  tliis  same  plant  is  not  as  common  in  harsh  com- 
plexion-destroying Russia  as  in  soft  and  skin-cultivat- 
ing England,  I  did  not  make  any  effort  to  approach 
nearer  to  the  shoeless  females.  Somehow  a  woman 
witliout  shoes  and  stockings,  whether  in  the  fields  of 
Germany,  or  in  the  market-gardens  of  Moscow,  is  not 
quite  attractive.  The  men  were,  as  usual,  stalwart 
fellows,  the  chief  in  his  long  coat,  and  the  subordinates 
in  their  pink  knickerbockers  and  loose  cotton  tunics, 
and  all  in  the  general  high  black  boots,  which  give 
sucli  a  fine  finish  of  strength  and  substance  to  the 
man  of  Russia.  There  was  a  sound,  well-to-do  look 
about  the  house  ;  flowers  were  in  a  small  inclosed 
space  by  the  wooden  walls,  and  the  rude  out-build- 
ings, the  carts  and  the  harness,  the  horses  and  the 
men,  and  the  piles  of  gourds  as  high  as  the  carts,  gave 
an  appearance  of  rich  plenty  to  the  scene  of  labour. 


« 


)i 


60 


DEVITCHEI  CONVENT. 


After  a  few  words  Avith  the  head  man,  and  some 
pantomime  in  my  limited  Russian,  and  inquiring  my 
way  to  the  Devitchei  Convent,  I  went  on.  Narrow 
pathways  among  the  acres  of  gourds,  and  then  of 
cabbage  and  other  garden  produce,  and  occasionally 
a  rude  cart  track  for  a  short  distance,  led  me  on  to  the 
convent,  now  visible  behind  some  trees. 

What  a  grand  fortress-like  building  is  the  Devitchei 
Convent !  This  is  the  famous  retreat  for  highly-born 
ladies.  Imagine  a  lofty  wall  battlementcd,  of  red 
brick,  some  thirty  feet  high,  inclosing  a  square  of  three 
or  four  acres.  The  noble  wall  stretched  in  a  straight 
line  along  in  front  of  me  for  three  hundred  yards, 
with  small  towers  on  it  at  intervals ;  and  fine  buildings 
of  red  brick  and  stone-work  rose  up,  lofty  and  impos- 
ing, beyond  it. 

In  the  centre  of  the  wall  was  a  fanciful  stone  gate- 
way with  a  tower  over  it,  and  the  gates  being  open  I 
went  in.  Nothing  could  be  neater  than  the  interior. 
At  the  porter  s  lodge  there  was  no  one,  so  I  sat  do^vn 
on  a  stone  seat  by  the  archway.  All  in  front  was  a 
large  space  open  down  to  the  church  at  a  hundred 
yards  distance.  This  was  a  very  rich  and  handsome 
edifice,  with  its  gilt  cupolas  and  broad  flights  of  steps, 
over  which  projected  a  roof  supported  by  light  pillars 


I 


i« 


ii 


j 


I 


a 


THE  BELL-TOWER. 


61 


up  to  the  arcade  running  round  the  church.  To  the 
right  were  low  cottage  buildings,  and  the  same  on  the 
left,  standing  separate.  To  the  right  of  the  church 
was  another  rich  edifice,  either  another  church,  or  per- 
haps a  grand  hall  or  library.  To  the  left  of  the  main 
building  was  the  bell  tower.  Anything  more  graceful 
you  cannot  see.  It  was  of  red  brick,  of  square  sub- 
stantial strength,  not  ornamented,  up  to  about  seventy 
feet,  and  then  for  another  seventy  feet  it  was  of  open 
work,  tier  upon  tier  of  light  arches  and  pillars,  the 
whole  tapering  to  a  delicate  point.  In  the  open  arches 
were  hung  the  bells.  I  had  heard  the  bells  as  I  came 
through  the  gardens,  the  silvery  musical  bells  calling 
the  nuns  to  the  afternoon  service. 

Now,  as  I  sat  I  heard  the  swell  of  voices  in  the 
church,  so  I  walked  down  towards  it.  There  was  not 
a  person  visible  anywhere.  What  a  charming  repose 
and  beauty  there  was  in  the  place  !  Perhaps  it  was 
not  a  prison  to  some  of  the  inmates,  but  a  happy  re- 
treat from  the  cares  of  the  world.  Anyhow,  it  was 
an  attractive  one  to  a  stranger,  judging  merely  by  the 
outside.  Narrow  raised  and  paved  pathways  ran 
across  and  down  the  large  space,  preparations  against 
the  long  winter  snows  and  flooding  thaws.  At  the 
foot  of  the  flight  of  stairs  on  either  hand  were  small 


>  r 


i    i 


t 


62 


NUNS. 


1 


inclosed  burial-places.  Stopping  to  read  the  inscrip- 
tions in  these,  I  saw  not  only  the  names  of  noble  ladies, 
but  of  noblemen  and  general  officers,  on  some  of  the 
tombs  and  head-stones.  Members  of  old  families  con- 
nected with  the  convent  like  their  bones  to  rest  within 
the  sacred  precincts,  and  pay  highly  for  the  privilege. 
Here  in  this  confined  but  picturesque  cemetery,  of  a  few 
yards  square,  lay  the  remains  of  some  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished sons  of  Russia. 

On  mounting  tlie  stairs  I  came  upon  the  long, 
broad,  and  shaded  arcade  running  to  the  right  and  left. 
Here  were  women  in  black  standing  about,  with  tlie 
air  of  dependents  of  tlie  convent.  The  door  bemg 
open  in  front  of  me  I  went  in,  and  in  a  moment  I 
found  myself  in  front  of  a  body  of  young  ladies,  of 
small  delicate  figures  and  pale  faces,  all  in  black,  the  pale 
faces  made  more  pale  by  the  setting  of  the  close-fitting 
black  cap  tied  under  the  chin.  This  covers  all  the 
hair,  but  it  rises  and  terminates  in  a  peak  which 
comes  up  from  behind  in  the  form  rather  of  the  Phry- 
gian cap  of  the  Naples  peasantry.  It  is  not  becoming, 
but  a  pretty  delicate  face  is  a  pretty  delicate  face  under 
any  disguise.  The  enormous  pillars  which  support  the 
cupolas  and  occupy  so  nmch  of  every  Greek  church — 
twelve  feet  square  very  often — break  the  congregation 


y^^ 


I 


INTERIOR  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


63 


4 


into  parties.  So  it  was  here.  On  my  right  was  a  body 
of  the  lady  nuns ;  in  my  front  between  the  pillars  was 
another  body;  beyond  them  another.  I  Avas  staggered; 
and  all  was  so  orderly  and  so  arranged  and  occupied 
that  I  felt  my  coming  in  was  very  much  like  an  intrusion. 
I  was  hesitating  about  backing  out  from  the  face  of 
these  small  regiments  of  young  ladies  in  sober  black, 
when  fortunately  I  saw  on  the  left,  not  a  further  body 
of  sombre  ladies,  but  four  or  five  women  in  ordinary 
attire.  So  I  took  courage  and  my  position  by  these. 
Everybody  was  standing — there  were  no  seats.  One 
of  the  enormous  pillars  was  close  to  me,  and  in  front 
of  this,  and  between  it  and  the  low  raised  dais  or  en- 
closed space  in  front  of  the  Ikonostas,  was  another 
body  of  the  lady  nuns  in  a  high-sided  pew.  Only 
their  heads  and  shoulders  were  above  this.  All  along 
their  front  and  beyond  the  pillar  and  out  of  my 
sight  ran  the  Ikonostas,  which  was,  as  usual,  richly 
adorned  with  pictures  with  gilded  settings,  up  to  the 
roof,  and  among  them  the  heads  of  the  Virgin  and 
Saviour  surrounded  with  precious  stones.  The  floor- 
ing was  covered  with  the  usual  rope  carpeting  in  com- 
partments. Everything  was  extremely  handsome  and 
in  good  order,  clean  and  cared  for.  Just  as  I  entered 
the  singing  ceased,  and  then  a  man  came  in  through  a 


it 


J  K  *- 


64 


THE  RUSSO-GREEK  SERVICE. 


gilt  door  from  behind  the  Ikonostas,  as  usual  with  long 
flowing  hair  and  full  beard,  in  a  long  silk  brown  dress. 
This  was  the  papa  of  the  convent.     He  was  the  only 
man  in  the  church  besides  myself     He  came  in  with 
that  usual  easy  and  rather  irreverential  air  of  the  Greek 
priest,  and  passing  along  to  the  centre  of  the  Ikonostas 
he  commenced  a  litany.     He  sang  in  a  deep  manly 
voice  the  prayer,  and  then  one  single  female  voice  sang 
the  response.     There  is  said  to  be   something  melan- 
choly and  affecting  in  the  Greek  service,  and  tliis  was 
the  case  with  this  litany.     There  was  a  mournful  ca- 
dence in  the  tones  of  the  nun  that  sounded  like  a  wail 
of  sorrow.     Each  response  was  plaintive  beyond  ex- 
pression, and  it  termmated  in  rather  a  high-pitched 
note  of  the  most  touching  appeal.     It  was  a  youn^^, 
fresh  voice,  clear,  soothing,  and  yet  so  pathetic  it  would 
make  you  weep  to  listen  to  it  if  you  had  a  weak  joint 
in  the  harness  of  your  nervous  system.     I  tried  to 
crane  forward  decently  to  see  the  singer,  but  the  enor- 
mous pillar  and  the  high  pew  of  the  nuns  prevented 
all  chance,  as  she  was  somew^here  further  on.     In  the 
middle  of  this  a  slight  movement  behind  me  made  me 
turn,  and  there  was  a  small  fragile  nun  at  my  side 
holding  up  a  little  velvet  bag  and  peering  at  me  with 
tender  eyes.    The  features  were  delicate  and  the  clieeks 


IN  CHURCH. 


65 


! 


i 


I 


colourless.  Poor  little  subdued  lady!  This  gentle 
creature  thus  mutely  begging,  and  the  plaintive  voice 
in  my  ears  from  the  unseen  singer,  were  irresistible. 
As  I  looked  into  her  pretty  soft  brown  eyes  and 
dropped  my  coin  into  her  bag  I  refrained — and  only 
refrained — from  w^hispering  '*  Sweet  sister  "  to  the 
pensive  little  being  before  me.  As  I  stood  there  a 
wandering  eye  from  the  high  pew  discovered  the 
stranger,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  nearly 
every  face  in  turn  stole  round  to  look  with  Eve-like 
curiosity.  I  regret  that  as  a  rule  the  young  ladies 
were  decidedly  plain.  To  be  sure  that  black  cap  is  not 
becoming,  and  it  requires  a  considerable  amount  of 
good  looks  to  balance  the  evil.  Of  course  I  had  no 
business  to  think  of  such  things  in  such  a  place,  but 
still  there  were  extenuating  circumstances.  I  did  not 
know  a  w^ord  of  the  litany,  the  whole  scene  was  pic- 
turesque in  the  extreme  and  affected  the  various  con- 
tradicting parts  of  one's  nature ;  and  the  result  was,  as 
my  senses  were  more  immediately  appealed  to,  the 
senses  did  not  refuse  to  reply  to  the  demand  on 
them. 

On  leaving  the  church  I  seated  myself  again  on  the 
stone  seat  by  the  entrance  gateway.  The  little  nuns 
came  out  in  irregular  bodies  and  dispersed  all  over 


! 


66 


A  KNOTTY  SUBJECT. 


the  pathways,  and  by  flights  of  stairs  to  the  several 
courts,  to  the  cottage  buildings  and  to  the  cloisters. 
Lastly  came  the  elders  and  the  superiors,  two  staid 
ladies  of  more  than  middle  age,  up  the  central  path 
to  a  handsome  building  on  the  other  side  of  the  en- 
trance gate.      They  were  in  animated  talk,  and  be- 
tween the  steps  of  the  church  and  the  archway  near 
me  they  settled  a  good  many  matters,  for  persons,  wo- 
men and  men,   too,  cap  in  hand,  came  from  various 
quarters,  received  directions,  and  departed   rapidly. 
But  there  was  some  one  knotty  subject  in  hand.  They 
stopped  midway.     Two  men,  servants  evidently,  came 
and  were  questioned,  and  then  turned  away  with  sub- 
dued looks,  to  be  called  up  again  and  reproached, 
evidently.     The  papa  at  last  came  up  the  path,  and 
was  taken  into  council.     Then  they  all  advanced  fur- 
ther   up,    and    the   w^hole   thing    was   very   serious. 
Gradually  the  papa  got  into  the  matter,  and  offered 
suggestions  seemingly,   but  without  avail.     Perhaps, 
methought,  some  little  nun  has  misbehaved,  and  must 
be  punished  ;  but  the  servants  would  not  be  consulted. 
Perhaps  it  is  a  finance  matter,  and  some  tenant  of  the 
convent  has  been  wanting  in  his  dues.     The  principal 
lady  became  very  serious,  moved  her  hands  up   and 


A  PERSUASIVE  PAPA. 


67 


down  with  decision,  raised  her  voice,  stopped  in  her 
walk,  was  clearly  working  herself  up  to  something 
like  violent  action  in  some  direction.  All  the  by- 
standers looked  on  the  ground,  impressed.  Now  ar- 
rived the  moment  for  the  papa.  He  took  up  his  pa- 
rable. He  spoke  for  two  or  three  minutes  in  a  quiet, 
measured  tone,  gradually  warming ;  people's  features 
relaxed  ;  the  sternness  faded  from  the  elder's  face  ;  she 
gave  a  consenting  motion  of  her  head  to  some  position 
the  papa  took  up ;  he  took  advantage  of  it,  threw  in  a 
rapid  observation  or  two  with  a  courtly  bow  to  her, 
added  something  evidently  conciliatory  and  pleasing, 
and  finished  with  a  little  story,  as  it  appeared,  which 
wa^  eminently  attractive.  The  elder  smiled,  the  other 
lady  laughed,  the  papa  made  a  grimace,  the  servants 
turned  away  relieved,  and  there  were  peace  again  and 
kind  thoughts  in  the  sacred  precincts.  Clever  and 
persuasive  papa !  After  some  very  cheery  conversation 
on  other  subjects  for  a  few  minutes,  he  took  his  leave; 
and  as  he  passed  me  on  his  way  out  we  exchanged  a 
polite  greeting.  He  had  won  his  little  combat,  and 
had  left  good  will  and  merciful  intentions  behind  him  ; 
and  as  I  went  out  and  watched  him  hastening  away  at 
an  easy  and  rapid  pace  over  the  grassy  plain  outside 

-  f2 


68 


A  PARTING  BENEDICTION. 


the  convent  wall  towards  some  houses,  where  he  pro- 
bably lived,  I  could  not  help  sending  after  him  men- 
tally the  words,  ''  Peace  be  with  thee,  papa ;  there  are 
many  worse  men  in  the  world  than  thou." 


69 


CHAPTER   VI. 


The  Cow  of  Northern  Russia — Cattle  let  out  to  Pasture — A  Cow  on 
its  way  Home — Climate  and  Productions  of  Little  or  Southern 
Russia — The  Extent  of  Moscow — The  Thief  Market — The  Police 
of  Moscow — Robberies  and  Burglaries — Purchasers  of  Stolen  Goods 
— Scenes  of  Real  Life  in  Russia — Men  of  the  Market — Speculating 
in  Old  Clothes—  Ingenious  Thieves  and  Ingenuous  Victims — Sale  of 
Stolen  Goods — Not  for  the  Market — Russian  Character — A  Hard- 
won  Victory. 

T  F  a  traveller  desires  to  see  a  city  and  mark  its  ways 
-■-  and  peculiarities  he  must  go  about  it  on  foot. 
One  morning  I  emerged  early  from  my  hotel,  all  the 
world  still  in  bed,  and  on  turning  up  the  first  street  I 
met  a  solitary  cow.  She  was  coming  leisurely  down 
the  raised  footway  unattended.  Not  another  moving 
thing  was  in  sight.  As  I  stood  to  watch  her  she  walk- 
ed on  at  a  good  pace,  without  looking  round,  and 
much  as  if  she  had  an  object  in  view  and  was  not  at 
all  at  a  loss  as  to  her  direction  to  it.  After  a  time  she 
turned  a  corner,  and  I  lost  sight  of  her.  Presently  I 
met  another,  and   after  a  time  a  third,  each  alone. 


70 


KEEPING  COWS. 


COWS  ON  THEIR  WAY  TO  PASTURE.- 


71 


Then  one  came  out  of  a  gateway  in  front  of  me,  and 
went  on  down  the  broad  street  I  was  following.  The 
gate  was  closed  when  I  reached  it.  It  must  be  ac- 
knowledged that,  havinga  liking  for  cows,  and  also  a  cer- 
tain bucolic  discrimination  as  to  form  and  colour  and 
breed,  I  found  these  cows veryugly.  In  fact,  the  Russian 
cow  of  the  North  is  but  a  plain  beast.  She  is  usually 
black  and  white  with  a  rugged,  ungainly  shape.  The 
marking,  too,  of  the  colours  is  displeasing  to  the  eye. 
She  is,  however,  by  no  means  small. 

But  now  the  proceedings  of  these  cows  in  the  early 
morning  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  wandering  alone,  was 
a  mystery.     On  inquiring  I  was  told  that  throughout 
Moscow  various  families  possess,  among  their  worldly 
goods,  a  cow.     Vast  numbers  of  the  larger  houses  have 
considerable  spaces  enclosed  in  the  rear  of  their  dwell- 
ings—gardens, courts,  grassy  places.     Likewise  the  in- 
numerable  cottages   in   the    by-streets   have    within 
their  gates  green  plots  and  outhouses.     In  very  many 
of  these  there  is  a  cow.     During  the  summer  time, 
when  there  is  pasture,  the  first  duty  to  be  observed  in 
all  these  dwellings  is  to  open  the  gates  and  let  out  the 
cow.     If  there  is  delay  in  this  performance  a  loud 
warning  from  the  outhouse  or  the  court  awakes  the 
servant  to  it.     The  cow  let  out,  he  may  go  to  bed  again. 


She  knows  her  way  by  certain  streets  towards  a  cer- 
tain barrier  of  the  city.  As  she  goes  other  cows  join 
her  from  other  cottages  or  houses,  and  by  the  time 
they  all  arrive  near  the  barrier  they  are  a  consider- 
able body.  Here  they  find  a  man  blowing  a  horn, 
whose  business  it  is  to  conduct  them  to  some  pasture 
outside  the  town,  to  take  care  of  them  during  the  day, 
to  collect  them  by  his  horn  in  the  afternoon,  and  to 
bring  them  back  to  the  barrier  at  a  given  time. 
When  he  has  done  this  his  business  is  over.  Each 
cow  knows  her  way  home,  and  finds  it  unmolested 
up  to  the  very  heart  of  the  city,  the  Kremlin. 
What  a  simple  and  convenient  method  for  insuring 
good  and  pure  and  fresh  milk  to  the  family !  Each 
inaier-familias  can  water  it  according  to  her  wants 
or  tastes,  and  she  can  omit  the  chalk — a  blessed  pri- 
vilege ! 

On  another  afternoon  I  was  loitering  about  the  Pa- 
lanka  Square,  just  outside  the  Kitai  Gorod,  when 
through  one  of  the  Kitai  gates,  and  from  among  the 
crowd  of  passengers,  came  a  solitary  cow.  As  she 
passed  near  me  I  could  not  but  mark  her  fine  form 
and  full  eye  and  glossy  neck.  There  was  no  one  with 
her  to  take  care  of  her.  I  remarked  this  to  a  Swiss 
who  was  my  companion. 


72 


A  COW  ON  HER  WAY  HOME. 


"  Is  she  quite  alone  ?"  said  I. 

"Of  course,"  he  replied;  ''she  knows  her  way 
home." 

"  Well,  but  she  has  just  come  through  the  Kitai,  at 
its  very  busiest  time,  when  its  streets  are  crowded 
with  drojkis  and  carts  and  people;  would  not  boys  in- 
terrupt her?" 

My  thoughts  went  off  to  what  our  London  gamins 
would  do  under  similar  circumstances. 

*'  There  is  no  man  or  boy  in  all  ]\Ioscow  would  ven- 
ture to  touch  or  interfere  with  that  cow,"  said  the 
Swiss ;  "-  it  would  be  as  much  as  his  life  is  worth ;  at 
any  hour  of  the  day  she  is  safe  everywliere,  and  you 
see  everybody  gets  out  of  her  way  to  let  her  go  home. 
Everyone  is  interested  in  every  cow  carrying  her  milk 
home  to  the  family,  and  so  she  is  under  the  protection 
of  everybody." 

To  test  this,  I  watched  the  animal  for  some  distance 
along  the  busy  and  bustling  market-place,  and  then 
along  the  Boulevard ;  and  she  held  steadily  on  her 
way,  taking  her  path  by  the  gutter  as  long  as  it  was 
unimpeded,  and  then  threading  her  way  among  the 
little  carts  and  stalls,  jostling  no  one,  and  getting  back 
to  her  line  when  possible,  till  she  reached  her  turning- 
point,  and  then  making  it  without  any  hesitation. 


UTTI^  RUSSIA. 


73 


But  this  cow  was  different  from  any  I  had  seen,  and 
I  applied  to  my  Swiss. 

*'  Ah  1  yes,"  he  said,  "  there  is  a  breed  in  Southern 
Russia  which  is  very  fine,  as  large  and  as  handsome  as 
we  have  in  SAvitzerland,  and  this  is  one  of  them." 

This  Southern  Russia,  or  Little  Russia,  seems  by  all 
accounts  to  be  a  country  of  many  excellencies.     If  you 
remark  a  fine  horse — one  of  those  black  trotters,  with 
an  Arab  look  about  him — you  are  told,  ''That  is  of  a 
breed  in  Southern  Russia."     So  it  is  with  the  corn. 
Little  Russia,  as  it  is  the  source  of  the  inspiration  of 
Russian  poets  who  sing  of  "  the  heavenly  climate  and 
the  fair  fields  of  Little  Russia,"  so  it  is  the  mother  of  all 
good  tilings — corn  and  wine,  and  horses  and  cows.  This 
cow  life  of  Moscow  reminded  me  of  the  account  given 
by  the  amusing  author  of  "  Bubbles  from  the  Brunnen 
of  Nassau,"  as  to  the  habits  and  ways  of  life  of  the  pigs 
of  Schlangenbad.     There  a  pig-man  generally  led  the 
animals  of  the  place  out  to  their  breakfast  and  dinner 
beyond  the  town,  collecting  them  in  the  same  way  as 
the  men  of  Moscow  do  their  cows.     I  will  only  add 
that    there   is   this   difference  between  the  cases  of 
Schlangenbad  and  Moscow,  that  whereas  the  former 
is  but  a  diminutive  place  where  it  is  but  a  few  mi- 
nutes' walk  from  the  centre  to  the  fields,  Moscow  is  a 


74 


SCENE  IN  THE  PAL  AN  K  A  SQUARE. 


THE  THIEF  MARKET. 


75 


huge  city.  From  my  hotel,  which  was  as  near  the 
centre  as  possible,  I  calculated  that  the  distance  was 
full  three  miles  to  any  barrier.  I  walked  from  it  by 
almost  all  of  the  great  radiating  thoroughfares  to  the 
several  barriers,  and  I  found  that  it  cost  me  a  fair 
hour  of  walking  easily,  at  about  a  pace  of  three  miles 
per  hour.  This  would  make  the  diameter  of  the  city 
about  six  miles.  It  is  declared  to  be  twenty  miles  in 
circumference,  and  this  my  calculation  would  be  in 
agreement  with  the  general  statement,  because  there 
is  one  point  in  the  circle  where  there  is  a  considerable 
projection,  on  the  south-east,  and  this  loop  or  projec- 
tion would  account  for  the  extra  two  miles.  Thus 
the  Moscow  cows  in  many  instances  must  walk  three 
miles  out  in  the  morning  for  their  food,  and  the  same 
distance  back  again  in  the  afternoon  to  their  homes.  My 
Southern  Russian  beauty  must  have  done  this,  for  she 
was  close  to  my  hotel  when  I  saw  her.  A  cow  of 
this  Southern  breed  is  worth  forty  roubles — about  six 
pounds ;  but  the  commoner  animal  of  the  North  is 
worth  only  about  ten  or  twelve  to  twenty  roubles. 

While  standmg  on  the  Palanka  Square,  watching 
the  cow,  I  observed  a  crowd  of  men  and  women  at 
the  comer  of  it,  spreading  across  the  Boulevard  walk 
and  into  the  arch  of  one  of  the  gateways  of  the  Kitai 


Wall.  Some  of  these  had  pairs  of  boots  in  their 
hands,  others  had  coats  hanging  over  their  arms  ; 
others  again  were  carrying  waistcoats,  while  many 
women  were  carrying  women's  dresses  as  well  as  the 
garments  of  men.  Some  sat  on  the  low  railing  of  the 
Boulevard  pathway,  all  waiting,  all  talking.  What 
was  this  ?  I  had  observed  this  same  collection  of 
people  more  than  once  before  at  this  same  place  when 
passing  through  the  Palanka  Square. 

My  Swiss  informant  told  me  that  just  inside  the 
gateway  was  a  market,  and  that  this  crowd  outside 
was  only  the  outflow  of  it.  Some  called  this  the  Thief 
Market ;  others  gave  it  the  attractive  name  of  the 
Louse  Market.  It  received  the  latter  appellation  from 
the  fact  that  as  it  was  attended  by  all  the  common- 
est and  lowest  and  dirtiest  part  of  the  population  of 
the  city,  there  was  also  a  very  large  population  of 
another  kind  with  them,  and  that  if  you  went  into 
the  market  the  chances  were  that  you  would  bring 
out  with  you  in  your  clothes  more  life  than  you  car- 
ried in.  The  reason  of  the  other  name  was,  that  all 
the  articles  one  saw  in  the  hands  or  on  the  arms  of 
the  men  and  women  were  considered  to  be  the  pro- 
duce of  robberies. 

''  But,"  said  I,  "  what  do  the  police  in  such  a  case? 


76 


POLICE  OF  MOSCOW. 


INGENUITY  OF  RUSSIAN  THIEVES. 


77 


I  see  some  of  them  standing  about  in  their  uniforms." 
**  The  police  do  nothing/'  he  replied— '^ that  is,  they 
only  do  what  suits  them.'' 

The  police  of  Moscow,  it  appeared,  are  a  very  pe- 
culiar body  of  men.     Their  business,  of  course,  is  to 
search  into  all  acts  of  robbery,  and  to  discover,  if  they 
can,  the  robbers ;  but  then  their  next  business  is  to 
make  all  the  money  they  can  out  of  the  case  for  them- 
selves.     They  are  badly  paid  by  the   Government, 
and  when  they  have  discovered  the  thief  they  keep 
the  discovery  close.     It  is  a  valuable  piece  of  know- 
ledge, and  not  to  be  parted  with  but  for  a  considera- 
tion.    Now  the  Government  have  already  paid  their 
share  of  the   premium,  but  if  the  robber  will   pay 
something   handsome   more   than    the    Government, 
then  the  interest  of  the  police  is  on  the  side  of  the 
higher  premium— the  robber.     Thus  there  are  con- 
tinual  robberies   and   burglaries,   one   nearly    every 
night,  in  Moscow.     Every  man  and  householder  must 
take  care  of  himself  and  his  goods.     The  police  are, 
if  anything,  rather  against  him.     The  robbers  are  a 
mine  of  wealth  to  them.     This  is  a  very  curious  state 
of  things  in  this  beautiful  and  highly-civilized  city, 
the  capital  of  a  great  country.     Here  was  an  open 
market,  under  the  nose  of  the  police,  for  stolen  goods 


— the  police  in  a  manner  in  league  with  the  thieves 
and  profiting  by  the  plunder. 

These  people  who  were  selling  were  not  the  actual 
thieves,  but  were  the  purchasers  at  low  prices  of  the 
stolen  goods.  It  was  difficult  to  believe  that  such  a 
known  and  understood  system  could  go  on ;  but  then 
Russia  is  a  country  which  is  in  a  transition  state  be- 
tween one  social  condition  and  another.  I  made  some 
remark  about  the  police,  and  this  market  offering  a 
premium  on  robbery,  w^hen  my  companion  observed, 
*'  It  is  a  premium  on  ingenuity.  No  one  in  the  world 
is  more  ingenious  than  a  Russian  about  money,"  and  he 
related  the  following  circumstances  connected  with  this 
market : — 

''  One  day  lately  a  man  brought  a  watch  here  for 
sale,  and  sold  it.  Another  w^atched  the  sale,  marked 
the  buyer,  and  followed  him.  Passing  through  one 
of  the  Kitai  gates,  he,  the  follower,  met  a  soldier,  to 
whom  he  said  a  few  words,  giving  him  a  rouble. 
They  both  came  up  to  the  purchaser  of  the  watch. 

1  the  man,  addressing  the  purchaser,  '  Friend,  you 
have  bought  a  watch  in  the  market— it  is  mine  ;  it 
was  stolen  from  me  last  night.'  '  How  do  I  know 
tliat^'  replied  the  other  ;  'what  was  your  watch  like?' 
The  man  described  the  watch,  adding,   '  Here,  show  it 


U 


78 


CURIOSITIES  OK  CRIME. 


JIEN  OF  THE  MARKET. 


79 


I 


■  i 


to  my  friend,  this  soldier ;  he  knows  it  well/  Of 
course,  on  seeing  it,  the  soldier  swore  fiercely  to  it  as 
his  friend's  watch.  'Now,' said  the  man,  ^you  give 
me  up  my  watch,  or  I  follow  you  till  we  meet  a 
policeman,  and  I  tell  him  all  about  it/  The  man  gave 
up  the  watch,  and  the  other  went  back  into  the  mar- 
ket and  sold  it." 

A  second  case  the  Swiss  related  : — 

''  A  rich  fur  cloak  was  sold  in  this  market.  Two 
men  marked  the  buyer  go  and  pawn  it.  These  men 
in  the  evening  disguised  themselves  as  police,  and  go- 
ing to  the  pawnbroker,  a  Jew,  they  said,  '  You  have 
a  fur  cloak ' — describmg  it — '  pawned  to  you  to-day. 
We  are  in  search  of  that  cloak  ;  it  was  stolen  some 
days  since/  '  Well,'  said  the  Jew,  '  there  it  is.  I 
lent  forty  roubles  on  it;  if  you  pay  me  that  sum,  there 
is  the  cloak.'  '  Pay  you  forty  roubles !  The  Govern- 
ment does  not  pay  for  the  recovery  of  stolen  goods. 
If  you  do  not  give  it  up,  you  must  come  before  the 
authorities,  and  you  may  lose  your  licence.'  So  the 
Jew,  being  frightened,  gave  up  the  cloak,  which  the 
men,  their  disguise  thrown  off,  brought  and  sold  in 
the  Thief  Market  the  next  day. 

I  walked  on  with  my  companion  along  the   Boule- 
vard outside  the  Kitai  wall,  down  the  hill  to  the  round 


tower  at  the  corner,   where  the   wall  strikes  on  the 
Moskwa.     Near  the  tower,  and  on  the  road  by  the 
river,  I  observed  three  or  four  ill-dressed,  scampish 
men  lianging  about,   scattered,   but  evidently  of  one 
party.     It  is  rather  a  lonely  corner.     There  are  no 
houses,  as  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Boulevard  is  the 
long  low  wall  of  the  garden  of  the  lar^e  Foundlincr 
Hospital,  which  stands  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
the  corner.  Presently  a  lad  came  along  the  road  by  the 
Hospital  wall,  and  turned  up  the  Boulevard.     He  had 
a  rather  bulky  bundle  under  one  arm.     In  a  moment 
one  of  the  men  made  a  dash  at  the  boy,   and  caught 
hold  of  the  bundle.     The  others  hurried  up,  and  the 
boy  was  surrounded.     ''  Men  of  the  Market,"  said  my 
companion.     The  boy  pushed  on  up  the  pathway  of 
the  Boulevard,  the  men  all  eager  in  manner  and  ani- 
mated in  gesture,  evidently  bent  on  learning  what 
was  in   the  bundle.     As  the  boy  passed  the  round 
tower  which  abuts  on  the  pathway  the  men  got  quite 
round  him,  and  parti}'  by  persuasive  oifers  to  buy, 
and  partly  by  a  certain  good-natured   violence,  they 
forced  him  into  a  recess  of  the  Kitai  wall  and  the  tower. 
I  strolled  back  to  see  the  result.     In  the  recess  the 
bundle  was  opened,  the  contents  spread  on  the  ground 
—apparently  various  articles  of  men's  clothing— all 


80 


SPECXJLATING  IN  OLD  CI/QTHES. 


NOT  FOR  THE  MAKKET. 


81 


If^ 


\. 


I 


I 


I 


t 


\ 


I 


the  men  kneeling  round  and  examining  them  closely, 
the  boy  seated.  It  was  his  little  shop  ;  and  the  men 
in  turn  were  chattering,  gesticulating,  making  offers 
for  the  goods  with  eager  depreciation.  Now  and 
then  one  got  up  and  pretended  to  come  away  in  utter 
disgust  at  the  price  demanded,  and  then  went  back 
again,  as  if  for  one  last  effort.  After  a  time  the  boy 
got  up  and  left  them,  went  round  the  tower  with  a 
quick  step  and  a  satisfied  countenance,  but  without  his 
bundle ;  and  as  he  walked  along  under  the  Hospital 
wall  by  the  river  he  was  counting  something  in  his  two 
hands  very  earnestly. 

*^  He  got  his  money,"  said  the  Swiss,  with  a  laugh. 
^^  Now  they  will  go  to  the  market." 

The  men  emerged  from  the  recess,  one  of  them  with 
the  bundle  under  his  arm.  He  went  on  his  way  up 
the  Boulevard  under  the  Kitai  wall  towards  the  Thief 
^T  rket,  and  the  other  three  turned  again  towards  the 
river.  The  goods  were  stolen,  and  the  man  had  bought 
them  on  speculation. 

Scarcely  was  the  boy  out  of  sight  when  a  man  ap- 
peared walking  along  the  road  by  the  TT  -pital  IT- 
was  neatly  dressed,  and  had  the  look  of  a  servant. 
He,  too,  had  a  bundle  under  his  arm.  Tiie  men 
watched  his  approach,  and  the  moment  he  turned  the 


) 


corner  of  the  wall  to  go  up  the  Boulevard  instead  of 
going  on  by  the  river,  they  hurried  across  after  him, 
and  one,  going  up  to  his  side,   put  out  his  hand  and 
tapped  the  bundle.     The  man  merely  looked  over  his 
shoulder,    nodded   and  laughed,   saying  in  a  cheery 
way,  ''No,  no,   not  for  the   market,"   and  went  on. 
The  two  returned  leisurely  to  their  companion,  who 
had  continued  lounging  by  the  low  river  wall  and 
looking  down  at  the  water,  and  who  now  called  out 
to  them  with  a  laugh,  "•  I  told  you  so."'  He  was  priding 
liimself  on  his  better  perception  that  this  neatly-dressed 
man  was  not  a  customer  for  the  market.     This  corner 
of  the  Kitai  wall,  by  the  Boulevard  and  the  Hospital, 
was  evidently  a  little  manor  on  which  these  sporting 
gentlemen  took  their  daily  diversion.     Here  they  lay 
in  wait  and  watched  for  their  game.     Here,  by  that 
quiet   river  road  up  to  this  solitary  corner  the  game 
was  sure  to  come;  and  here  they  brought  it  down  and 
bagged  it,  their  weapons  being  their  wits  and  a  few 
roubles.     Just   up   the  hill   was  their  sure  market. 
How   quickly  they  turned   over  their  little  floating 
capital ! 

One  day,  standing  by  a  window  in  my  hotel  on  the 
Boulevard,  watching  the  endless  novelty  of  figures 
passing  along  the  pathway  in  front,  I  witnessed  a  new 

G 


llfi 


82 


ALTERCATION  WITH  A  JEW. 


THE  HEBREW  S  PURCHASE. 


83 


scene  of  "  The  Market."     I  think  it  must  be  allowed 
to  the  Russians  as  a  people  that  they  are  by  no  means 
an  ill-tempered  or  a  quarrelsome  race.     During  all 
the  time  of  my  stay  in  Russia  I  never  once  saw  two 
men  fight,  or  even  have  a  violent  contention  beyond 
a   few   passionate   words.     They   appeared   to   be  a 
singularly  easy   and  kindly-tempered  people.      You 
may  witness  more  rudeness  and  roughness  between 
man  and  man  in  gesture  and  voice  in  one  hour  in 
Paris  than  you  will  see  in  Moscow  in  a  month.     This 
scene  by  the  Kitai  wall  before  the  hotel  was  redolent 
of  ^'  The  Market."     A  middle-aged  man,  apparently  a 
J  w  by  his  dress,  was  walking  quietly  along  the  path- 
way with  a  bundle  under  his  arm.     A  man  and  woman 
of  the  small  shopkeeper  class  met  him,  and  something 
induced  the  woman  to  turn  round  after  passing  the 
Jew  and  look  after  him.     The  two  parties  had  not 
recognised  each  other.     Now  the  woman  went  up  ])e- 
hind  the  Jew  and  peered  at  the  bundle,  and  then  she 
snatched   at  it.     The  Jew  turned  short  round  and 
caught  the  bundle  with   his    other   hand,   and   then 
there  began  an  altercation.     The  woman  gesticulated 
violently,  pointing  with  one  hand  to  the  bundle,  which 
she  grasped  with  the  other.     The  man,  her  companion, 
came  up  and  looked  on.     The  woman  appealed  to 


him,  and  the  Jew  appealed  to  him.     The  passers-by 
i         stopped  ;  and  the  Jew  and  the  woman  so  pulled  and 
tugged  at  the  poor  bundle,   that,   of  course,  it  burst 
open,  and  then  a  woman's  dress  appeared.     Now  the 
man  seemed  to  recognise  this,  and  he  too  entered  the 
lists  against  the  Jew.     I  must  say  the  Hebrew  bore 
all  this  outrageous  conduct  of  these  two  strangers  with 
much  patience.     It  had  the  look  of  a  highway  rob- 
bery with  violence  in  broad  day.     The  Jew  was  the 
injured  person,  and  all  he  did  was  to  hold  on  to  his 
property   and   call   out   something   continually  in    a 
piteous  tone,  which  I  could  not  distinguish.    .Still  he 
held  on  pertinaciously,  as  any  man  would  under  the 
ciicumstances,  and  more  especially  a  tenacious  man  of 
the  proverbial   tribes.     All   this  unseemly   squabble 
arose  out  of  that  odious  mother  of  corrupt  ingenuity, 
''The  Market,"  just  up  the  hill  in  the  Kitai  gateway. 
On  inquiring,  it  appeared  that  the  Jew  had  purchased 
a  woman's  dress  in  the  market,   ''  quite  promiscuous," 
as  Mrs.  Gamp  would  say,  and  was  carrying  it  home, 
when,  by  ill-luck,  the  owner — for  it  had  been  stolen, 
of  course — caught  a  glimpse  of  a  corner  of  it  peeping 
out  of  the  wrapping  kerchief  under  the  Hebrew's  arm 
as  he  passed.     The  woman's  wits  were  all  alive,  for 
she  was  with  her  husband  on  her  way  to  the  market 

G  2 


i 


il 


84 


UNSEEMLY  SQUABBLE. 


A  DEARLY-BOUGHT  VICTORY. 


85 


on  the  chance  of  finding  the  missing  dress  there  on 
sale.  When  the  kerchief  was  pulled  off,  and  the  whole 
of  the  lost  treasure  of  her  heart,  in  all  its  beauty  and 
loveliness,  was  exposed  to  view,  naturally  she  was  ex- 
cited to  madness,  as  any  woman  would  be.  For  a 
full  quarter  of  an  hour  the  struggle  went  on,  the  Jew 
holding  on  by  the  dress  by  the  middle,  while  the 
woman  held  one  end  of  it,  and  the  husband  the  other. 
Nobody  interfered,  but  a  little  crowd  stopped  to  watch 
the  result.  The  three  pulled  and  pushed  each  other 
all  over  the  broad  footway,  from  the  low  railing  on 
one  side  to  the  low  railing  on  the  other,  now  under 
the  low  lime-trees,  and  now  in  the  open.  No  police- 
man appeared ;  and  so  the  tussle  went  on  uninter- 
rupted. The  Jew  never  attempted  to  pull  away  the 
dress,  but  only  to  hold  on  to  it  with  his  little  wiry 
arms  locked  round  it,  sometimes  forced  one  way  by 
the  superior  strength  of  the  man,  and  then  the  other 
by  the  passionate  violence  of  the  woman,  and  some- 
times staggering  under  a  united  rush  of  the  two.  At 
last  he  was  nearly  down  on  his  back,  when,  in  his 
efforts  to  save  himself  from  falling,  the  dress  slipped 
from  his  grasp,  and  he  stood  a  dishevelled  and  dis- 
comfited man.  And  then  began  a  parley,  which 
lasted  another  ten  minutes,  over  the  garment.     C'  arly 


I 


there  was  matter  for  negotiation,  as  is  the  case  with 
greater  powers  after  a  campaign  fought  and  won. 
They  all  went  up  the  pathway,  and  getting  over  the 
low  rail  on  to  the  grass  went  together  to  a  recess  in 
the  wall  of  the  Kitai.  There  it  appeared  the  woman 
was  induced  to  part  with  her  dress  for  a  consideration, 
for,  the  parley  ended,  the  iiubrew  rolled  up  his  prize 
in  his  kerchief,  and  walked  down  the  Boulevard  till  he 
came  to  a  bench  just  opposite  my  window.  Here, 
under  one  of  the  dwarf  limes,  he  sat  down  to  recover 
himself  after  his  long  battle.  It  was  a  dearly-bought 
victory,  as  I  daresay  he  confessed  to  himself,  for  he 
had  suffered  in  his  person,  and,  worse  than  that,  he 
had  had  to  pay  money  a  second  time  from  his  purse 
for  his  prize. 


86 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Beds  in  Hotels— Rapid  Improvement—Russian  Noblemen  on  their 
Travels  in  Former  Days— Change  produced  by  Railways— M. 
Dusaux's  Hotel  and  Cuisine— Interior  of  a  Russian  Hotel— View 
from    my    Window    on    the    Boulevard— Carriages— The    Public 

Rooms— Russian  Waiters— Devotional  Character  of  the  People 

Scene  at  Wilna— National  Costume— Property  held  by  Serfs— A 
Cossack  Chief— Peasants  on  their  way  to  Marketr— Riding  and 
Driving— A  Carriage  of  Primitive  Construction— Adventure  with  a 
"  Spider." 


N  amusing  writer  of  some  letters  on  Russia,  and 
more  particularly  on  Moscow,  in  the  year  of  the 
coronation  of  the  present  Czar,  in  1856,  is  eloquent 
on  the  subject  of  the  beds  in  the  hotels.  A  bedstead 
and  a  mattress,  he  tells  us,  were  provided  in  his  day 
for  the  traveller,  but  anything  like  bedding,  such  as 
pillows  and  blankets  and  sheets,  the  stranger  must 
himself  provide,  or  do  without.  But  it  is  surprising 
with  what  rapid  stride  alterations  and  improvements 
a  rvance  into  hitherto  benighted  corners  of  the  social 
world  in  these  latter  years.     It  is  not  many  lustres 


RUSSIAN  NOBLEMEN  ON  THEIR  TRAVELS. 


87 


ago  that  any  Russian  nobleman,  on  his  journey  into 
France  or  Germany  in  his  huge  family  vehicle — 
which  was  always  as  much  more  capacious  than  the 
travelling-carriage  of  any  great  man  of  cither  of 
these  two  countries  as  Russia  is  larger  than  Gaul 
or  Teutonia — having  ordered  beds  at  an  inn  for 
the  niglit  for  his  family,  gave  no  thought  of  beds  for 
his  many  retainers.  These  latter  passed  their  nights 
in  the  roomy  carriages,  or  on  mattresses  in  open  cor- 
ridors. Out  of  those  capacious  vehicles  what  piles  of 
pillows  and  bedding  the  eyes  of  wondering  onlookers 
saw  emerge.  These  were  not  only  useful  on  the 
journey  over  the  lengthening  Russian  wastes  by  day, 
but  were  indispensable  at  the  inns  by  night.  But, 
tempora  mutantur^  the  railroads  have  altered  all  this 
for  the  better.  Now  in  the  towns  of  Russia  where 
the  railway  brings  its  civilizing  influences,  the  tra- 
veller finds  his  bedroom  furnished  with  goods  from 
Paris  or  Berlin  via  St.  Petersburg. 

At  Moscow   there   is   a  house   kept   by   Monsieur 
Dusaux,  a  Frenchman,  well  situated  on  the  Boulevard 

« 

outside  the  Kitai  wall.  This  house  was  my  habitation 
while  at  Moscow.  Monsieur  Dusaux  is  a  pattern 
landlord — courteous,  unassuming,  obliging,  attentive 
to  his  guests.     It  is  true  that  having  been  for  some 


88 


M.  DUSAUX  S  HOTEL. 


VIEW  FROM  MY  WINDOW. 


89 


years  chef  in  the  establishment  of  an  ambassador  of 
his  own  country,  and  his  affections  and  habits  bein^r 
still  in  the  cuisine,  he  looks  after  that  department  of 
his   own    hotel   with   a   never-failing   solicitude    and 
leaves  the  general  management  of  the  house  to  an 
active  and  intelligent  German  intendant.     But  I  found 
this  an  admirable  division  of  labour,  inasmuch  as  M. 
Dusaux's  cuisine  was,  in  consequence  of  his  careful 
supervision  and  skilful  hand,  worthy  of  Paris  in  all 
respects.      The    German    intendant    spoke    Englisli 
fluently,  knew  everything  in  Moscow,  and  was  worth 
his   weight  in  roubles  in  the  matter  of  making  bar- 
gains for  the  stranger  with  that  bargain-loving  race, 
the  Moscow  shopkeepers. 

lu.^  entrance  of  a  Russian  hotel  is  modest.  It  is 
not  a  grand  gateway,  with  an  interior  court,  as  in 
France  or  Germany,  but  is  a  simple  doorway,  as  in 
England.  The  hotel  of  Monsieur  Dusaux  was  a 
long  and  low  house.  Immediately  inside  the  entrance 
door  wa^  a  broad  flight  of  stairs  to  the  first  floor,  and 
on  my  arrival  on  reaching  this  I  found  a  wide  plat- 
form with  a  door  on  my  left  opening  into  a  suite  of 
handsome  public  rooms,  and  on  my  right  a  spacious 
corridor  leading  to  the  private  apartments.  The  Ger- 
man superintendent  appeared  at  once,  and  guessing 


in  an  instant  my  country,  without  a  question  led  me 
along  the  corridor  to  its  extremity,  and  into  a  hand- 
some well-furnished  bright  room  adapted  for  a  bed- 
room and  sitting-room  for  a  single  man.  I  felt  at 
home  in  a  moment.  If  I  had  had  a  choice  of  all  Paris 
or  London  I  could  not  have  taken  up  my  abode  in 
one  more  to  my  liking.  There  were  sofa,  tables, 
chairs,  mirrors ;  while  an  ornamental  screen  shut  off 
the  sleeping  part  of  the  room.  Across  the  short  gap 
of  time  since  1856  and  the  amusing  letters  from  Mos- 
cow wliat  a  leap — from  barbarism  into  refinement ! 

My  room  was  at  a  commanding  corner  of  the  house, 
two  windows  in  front  ''  giving,"  as  the  French  say,  on 
the  Boulevard,  and  other  two  looking  up  the  said 
Boulevard  to  the  Palanka  Square,  or  market-place,- 
as  well  as  into  another  broad  street.  In  my  front, 
and  beyond  the  Boulevard  and  a  promenade  planted 
with  dwarf  lime-trees,  stretched  away  to  the  right 
and  left  the  white  and  picturesque  and  battlemented 
wall  of  the  Kitai  Gorod  with  its  round  towers  or  bas- 
tions at  intervals.  Precisely  opposite  to  my  windows 
was  a  small  arch  pierced  in  the  wall,  a  flight  of  steps 
leading  up  to  it,  a  passage  for  pedestrians  into  the 
Kitai.  Tt  was  a  sunny  day  in  the  beginning  of 
August,   and  my  windows  looked   south   and   west. 


m 


'.s 


90 


PUBLIC  ROOMS. 


TARTAR  WAITERS. 


91 


The  Boulevard  was  all  alive  with  carriaf][es  of  stran^T^e 
construction:  droschky,  tarantass,  spider-carriage,  coun- 
try waggons,  all  on  four  wheels ;  one  on  two  wheels 
being  a  rare  object — I  scarcely  saw  a  vehicle  on  two 
wheels  of  any  kind  duiing  all  my  stay  in  Russia, — 
while  foot-passengers  in  every  kind  of  costume,  ex- 
cept our  accustomed  one  of  the  West,  filled  the  pro- 
menade, hurrying  on  business,  or  strolling  at  their 
ease,  or  sitting  on  benches  beneath  the  shade  of  the 
limes.  I  felt  at  once  launched  into  the  very  centre 
of  everything — close  to  theatres,  markets,  the  Kitai, 
and  the  Kremlin. 

In  an  hour  from  my  arrival  I  had  shaken  off  the 
effects  of  my  night  journey  from  St.  Petersburg,  an 
affair  of  twenty  hours,  and  was  sitting  on  a  divan  in 
one  of  the  public  rooms  by  a  window  looking  on  the 
novel  and  moving  panorama  of  the  Boulevard,  and 
deeply  concerned  in  a  dish  from  M.  Dusaux's  own 
skilful  hand.  These  public  rooms  were  charming. 
Imagine  three  handsome  and  lofty  apartments  en  suite 
to  the  front  and  a  pretty  cabinet  beyond,  the  first 
room  furnished  in  green  velvet  hangings  and  similar 
covering  of  chairs  and  divans,  the  second  in  crimson 
and  grey  silk  moreen,  the  third  in  blue  velvet,  and 
the  little  cabinet  in  blue  and  white.     Small  round 


tables  stood  in  front  of  the  divans,  and  comfortable 
large  arm-chau^s  were  everywhere ;  mirrors  covered 
the  walls  at  intervals  from  the  ceiling  to  the  divans, 
and  gas  lamps  with  four  or  five  burners  were  sus- 
pended in  the  centres  ;   the  doors  were  fitted  with 
rich,  heavy  portieres,  as  defences  against  the  cold  in 
winter.     Nothing  could  be  more  scrupulously  clean 
and  fresh  than  were  these  rooms  at  any  hour  of  the 
day  or  night,  and  nothing  could  be  more  pleasing  to 
the  eye,  or  more  gratif;ying  to  one's  sense  of  luxuri- 
ous surrounding,  than  tlieir  taste  and  order  and  good 
keeping.     Four  men  in  black,  with  white  neckcloths 
— the  costume  de  rigueur  of  all  waiters  in  Russia  at 
hotels  or  stations  under  the  new  railway  reign — were 
in  attendance  on  these  rooms,  and  greater  civility  or 
readiness   or  more  noiseless  waiting    no    one  could 
desire.     These  men  were  all  Tartars.     They  were  of 
dark  complexion,  rather  high  cheek  bones,  mild  coun- 
tenances,  pleasing  voices,  and  had  all  that  peculiar 
look  of  the  men  of  the  East — the  jet-black  hair,  the 
colourless  skin,  the  full  lip  and  the  veiled  eye.     Each 
morning  of  my  stay  on  entering  the  middle  room  1 
found  a  certain  table  by  one   of  the   divans,  com- 
manding a  window  to  the  Boulevard,  prepared  for 
me  with  all  the  freshness  and  brightness  of  a  Paris 


I 


92 


RUSSIAN  PIETY. 


DEVOTION  TO  THE  VIRGIN. 


93 


i 


salon,  the  beautiful  Moscow  porcelain  fanciful  in  co- 
lour and  novel  and  graceful  in  form,  the  room  cool 
with  shading  blinds ;  and  often  either  ray  attentive 
landlord  or  the  intelligent  intendant  paid  me  a  visit 
during  breakfast  to  offer  any  hiformation  on  Moscow 
and  the  Muscovites  I  might  desire. 

■p  ry  day  T  witnessed  scenes  very  curious  to  the  eye 
of  a  stranger,  in  front  of  my  windows,  in  connection 
with  the  small  arch  for  foot  passengers  through  the 
Kitai  wall.  Above  the  arch  was  fixed  a  small  picture 
of  the  Virgin  in  a  gilt  frame,  and  scarcely  did  a  pedes- 
trian, unless  he  was  a  foreigner,  ever  go  up  these 
steps,  or  come  down  them,  or  pass  in  front  of  the 
arch  up  or  down  the  promenade,  without  a  reverence 
to  the  picture.  How  often  from  my  window  T  re- 
marked the  general  devotion  of  this  people !  The 
greater  nmiiber  would  kneel  down,  uncover  their 
heads,  and  cross  themselves  three  times,  while  many 
did  this  to  the  number  of  three  times  three.  And  as  it 
was  with  people  on  foot,  so  it  was  with  people  in  car- 
riages ;  as  these  went  by,  droschkies,  telegas,  taran- 
tasses,  strings  of  the  common  telegas  laden  with  coun- 
try produce,  the  drivers  of  all  these  various  vehicles, 
almost  without  exception,  would  salute  that  little  pic- 
ture some  twenty  yards  off  above  the  arch,  and  cross 


i 


themselves,  bare-headed,  three  times.  I  thought  I 
could  distinguish  that  the  lower  the  man  or  woman 
in  the  social  scale  the  more  earnest  was  the  devotion 
— the  more  \igorous  the  crossing.  Officers  iri  their 
droschkies  saluted  it,  ladies  in  their  carriages  did  the 
same,  but  without  stopping ;  whereas  in  numerous  in- 
stances country  people  would  dismount  from  their 
telegas  and  kneel  in  mid-roadway.  Frequently  per- 
sons coming  down  the  cross  street  at  my  corner  would 
stop  at  the  angle,  and  kneel  uncovered  on  the  foot 
pavement.  I  could  not  hear  that  that  little  image 
had  ever  been  credited  with  any  high  spiritual  act  to 
account  for  all  this  veneration  ;  but  it  was  the  Virgin, 
and  this  seemed  to  be  sufficient.  To  a  Protestant,  who 
lives  in  an  undemonstrative  society  such  as  that  of  Eng- 
land or  Germany,  this  warmth  of  feeling,  or,  at  least, 
outward  expression  of  it,  is  a  surprise.  He  sees  so 
little  of  it  even  in  France  or  Italy,  in  Roman  Catholic 
countries  even  where  such  externals  are  encouraged, 
that  he  is  quite  unprepared  for  the  general  and  per- 
sistent exhibition  of  it  in  any  country.  In  passing 
through  Prussia,  on  my  way  into  Russia,  I  of  course 
saw  nothing  of  this  kind  anywhere,  not  even  in  the 
Roman  Catholic  parts  of  it,  whereas  I  had  hardly 
crossed  the  frontier  and  entered  the  first  town,  Wil- 


s 


94 


A  QUERY. 


RUSSIAN  COSTUME. 


95 


i 


na,  before  I  found  knots  of  people  on  their  knees, 
uncovered,  in  the  middle  of  one  of  the  streets — sol- 
diers, peasants,  gentry,  offering  their  devotion  to  an 
unseen  figure  of  the  Virgin.  There  was  an  archway 
across  the  street,  and  above  this  was  built  a  dimmu- 
tive  chapel,  and  over  the  altar,  and  concealed  by  a 
green  curtain,  was  the  picture  to  which  all  these  peo- 
ple in  Wilna  were  bowing  down.  What  a  radical 
difference  in  mind  and  thought  within  the  distance  of 
a  few  miles  !  So  now,  in  front  of  my  window  on  the 
Boulevard,  was  a  repetition  of  the  Wilna  scene. 

The  query  to  myself  then  and  since  still  is — is  this 
a  really  devout  people,  in  whom  there  is  a  stronger 
sense  of  religion  than  in  other  races,  and  in  whom 
this  sense  will  last,  and  be  a  perpetual  bond,  to 
unite  them  and  aid  them  to  work  out  a  grand  fate  in 
the  history  of  the  world  ?  Or  is  it  only  the  result  of 
their  present  social  condition — one  of  much  seclusion 
from  the  active  and  stirring  world — one  of  limited 
knowledge  and  of  a  forced  subjection  to  conventional 
habits — a  forced  submission  to  the  strong  hand  of 
domestic  power  and  ecclesiastical  schooling?  Any- 
how, there  is  the  expression  now.  But,  then,  will 
this  continue  in  its  present  vigour  and  earnestness  ? — 
continue,  now  that  freedom  has  come  to  the  serf,  and 


railways  are  bringing  the  depths  of  Russia  into  con- 
tact with  the  outer  world,  with  education  and  all  its 
doubts  and  all  its  demands  on  men  to  throw  off  the 
shackles  of  custom  and  thought  and  to  trust  to  their 
own  powers  of  reason — education,  with  all  its  science, 
and  all  its  astounding  novelties,  and  its  defiance  and 
overthrow  of  old-established  ways  ?    Anyhow  my  win- 
dow on  the  Boulevard  offered  me  a  fresh  page  in  life. 
As  a    rule    every   man   in  Russia    wears   a   long 
coat,   one  which    reaches    nearly  to  his  heels.      At. 
first    sight    you    think    that    every  man  is  wearing 
his    great-coat,    even    on   a    hot  summer  day.     But 
it  is  not  so.      This    long    heavy  garment,   and  the 
liigh  black  boots  reaching  to  the  knee  on  the  outside 
of  all  kinds  of  pantaloons,  are  the  distinguishing  points 
of  the  dress  of  a  Russian.     All  other  parts  of  his  dress 
may  vary,  but  these  two  articles,  the  coat  and  the 
boots,  they  belong  to  the  man.     They  have  a  good 
eflfect,  too,  independent  of  their  substantial  usefulness, 
as  they  impart  to  the  wearer  an  air  of  size  and  weight 
and  strength  which  is  manly.     Now  among  the  men 
passing   continually  along  the  promenade,  of  course 
wearing  the  unfailing  coat  and  boots,  there  were  some 
of  a  certain  character  of  dress  which  was  strikinc^. 
Sometimes  these  were  four  or  five  in  company,  some- 


96 


NATIONAL  PEASANT  COSTUME. 


WEALTHY  PEASANTS. 


97 


H 


times  one  alone,  but  the  dress  was  almost  always  the 
same.  Let  me  describe  it.  Below  were  the  in- 
dispensable boots,  very  neatly  made,  with  a  consi- 
derable attention  to  cut.  The  feet  were  often  finely 
and  delicately  formed.  The  boots  reached  to  the 
knee,  to  which  descended  a  full  knickerbocker  of 
black  cloth,  often  of  black  velvet.  A  scarlet  cotton 
tunic  reached  to  the  middle  of  the  thigh,  and  over  the 
upper  part  of  this  tunic  was  a  black  velvet  waistcoat 
with  ornamental  metal  buttons,  closed  up  to  the  neck. 
The  large  flowing  dark  coat  and  a  small  dark  cloth 
cap  on  the  head  completed  the  attire.  It  was  singu- 
larly handsome  and  manly.  On  inquiring  who  these 
men  were  of  whom  I  saw  such  numbers,  I  was  told 
**They  are  peasants  ;  the  other  day  they  were  serfs — 
now  they  are  free."  This,  it  appeared,  is  the  dress  of 
those  peasants  who  are  well-to-do — men  who  have 
saved  money.  I  then  saw  that  there  were  numbers 
of  other  men  who  wore  this  same  dress — that  is,  the 
fashion  of  it — only  that  all  the  material  was  coarser 
and  commoner,  ruder  and  dirtier,  and  that  in  fact 
this  was  the  national  peasant  costume.  The  difference 
was  that  these  well-dressed  men  were  the  dandies  of 
their  class — the  upper  crust — and  all  the  material  be- 
ing richer  and  brighter  in  colour,  the  effect  was  en- 


hanced.     This   is,  in  fact,  the  national  dress  of  the 
Russian.  4. 

Vast  numbers  throughout  the  empire  of  this  class 
had  been  allowed  by  their  masters  to  enter  into  trade 
and  commerce  in  the  cities,  where  many  of  them  were 
successful,  saved  money,  and  bought  plots  of  land  in 
the  country,  or  a  cottage  in  Moscow,  or  a  house. 
Some  of  these  men  are  even  wealthy,  have  become 
owners  of  parts  of  the  villages  in  which  they  were 
originally  serfs,  and  even  of  mills  and  manufactories 
on  the  properties  of  their  former  masters.  While  the 
state  of  serfdom  continued,  with  all  the  power  of 
coercion  by  the  master,  and  its  bonds  on  the  liberty 
of  action  of  the  peasant,  these  facts  were  kept  out  of 
sight  as  much  as  possible,  for  fear  of  results  of  which 
the  machinery  was  legally  in  the  masters'  hands  ;  but 
when  serfdom  ceased  the  use  of  concealment  ceased, 
and  then  appeared  the  fact  so  remarkable  of  an  im- 
mense body  of  serfs  possessing  property  in  house  and 
land. 

Among  the  passengers  along  the  Boulevard  was 
frequently  a  fine  tall  elderly  man,  dressed  in  a  light 
grey  coat  of  a  coarse  material,  Cossack  boots,  and  a 
^ound  grey  cap  with  a  wide  border  of  dark  fur  all 
round  it,  forming   in  a  manner  a  heavy  projecting 


te        I'  . 


98 


A  COSSACK  CHIEF. 


PKASANTRY  ON  THEIR  WAY  TO  MARKET. 


brim.     He  was  a  grand  figure,  erect  and  rather  cor- 
pulent.    The   featifres  were  fine,  the  eyes  grey  and 
still   bright,   and  the    whole   countenance   mild  and 
noble.     He  appeared  to  be  always  sauntering  about 
at  his  ease  and  leisure.     I  admired  him  so  much  that 
we  struck  up  a  kind  of  acquaintance.     We  could  not 
converse,  but  we  always  made  a  kind  of  shew  of  talk. 
I  would  say  good  morning  to  him  in  Russian  and  in- 
quire for  his  health,  and  he  would  reply  something  in 
Cossack.     This  man  liad  once  been  a  Cossack  chief, 
but  his  tribe  subdued,  his  occupation  gone  of  burning 
villages   and   capturing  spoil,   he   lived   at   Moscow. 
Some  said  he  had  a  small  allowance  from  Govern- 
ment, and  would  wish  that  it  were  so  and  the  old 
chief  not  quite  thrown  on  the  world ;  but  his  principal 
means  of  living  were  declared  to  be  vicarious  charity. 
He  certainly  begged  of  me  always  with  his  large  cap 
in  his  hand.     It  was  a  humiliating   position  for  the 
fine  old  man  ;  but  our  muttered  talk  always  ended  in 
one  way — mutual  smiles  and  partial  kopecks.     He  al- 
ways took  them  with  an  air  as  though  we  had  been 
two  chiefs.     Thus — ''  My  friend,  let  me  offer  you  this 
gold  drinking-cup,  a  spoil  from  the  slaughtered  enemy, 
as  a  proof  of  a  tried  and   enduring  friendship.—  iUy 
friend,  I  accept  willingly  the  goblet,  and  will   do  as 


99 


much  for  you  on  occasion  when  our  steeds  trample  on 
the  throats  of  the  vanquished."  this  was  the  senti- 
ment  of  our  occasional  meeting  on  the  promenade. 
This  old  cliieftain  always  reminded  me  of  the  promi- 
nent figure  in  one  of  the  Cossack  tales  of  Gogol, 
the  Russian  writer,  Tarass  Boolba.  Here  were  the 
grand  form,  the  Eastern  face,  the  dark  complexion, 
the  air  of  the  chieftain  in  figure  and  countenance.  He 
looked  like  a  man  of  lineage,  one  who  had  swayed  the 
council  in  tlie  Zaporoghian  Ssiecha,  and  was  now  but 
a  temporary  sojourner  in  the  streets  of  Moscow. 

The  Russian  is  a  patient  man.  The  Boulevard  ran 
up  with  a  rather  considerable  rise  from  the  hotel  to 
the  Palanka  Square ;  and  in  the  mornings  when  the 
peasantry  were  arriving  for  the  market  on  that  square, 
their  creaking  and  frail-looking  telegas  heavily  laden 
with  country  produce,  not  to  mention  the  wife  and 
old  mother  and  two  or  three  children  piled  on  the 
top— these  telegas  would  come  by  in  a  string  of  twenty 
at  a  time— there  was  very  often  a  hard  fight  of  the 
little  horse  to  get  up  that  last  hill.  These  peasant 
horses  were  generally  but  undersized  and  weakly 
things,  worth  about  ten  roubles — twenty-five  shillings. 
What  a  number  of  jibbers  I  used  to  watch.  Not  even 
the  vigorous  crossings  and  earnest  prayers  to  the  lit- 

H  2 


100 


UNLIMITED  PATIENCE. 


J, 


TREATMENT  OF  JIBBING  HORSES. 


101 


-^ 


tie  picture  of  the  Virgin  above  the  arch  in  the  Kitai 
wall  just  opposite  and  looking  out  on  the  fatal  pitch 
of  the  hill,  were  of  any  avail  in  many  cases.  It  would 
seem  as  if  the  Virgin  only  ventured  as  a  reply  to  all 
the  entreaties  for  help  the  cold-blooded  advice,  ^^Aide- 
toi  et  le  ciel  t'aidera." 

There  stood  the  little  horses  jibbing  in  spite  of 
prayers  and  advice.  But  the  Russian  never  beat  his 
horse  or  became  angrj.     He  seemed  to  be  gifted  with 


an  unlimited  patience.  The  family  would  continue 
piled  up  on  the  top  of  the  load  as  if  they  had  no  con- 
cern in  the  matter.  If  the  horse  could  manage  in  the 
course  of  the  morning  to  get  them  all  up  to  the  Pa- 
lanka,  well  and  good, — but  if  he  could  not,  then  they 
must  stay  there  and  bear  it.  Getting  down  as  a  mea- 
sure of  help  in  the  question  did  not  seem  to  occur  to 
the  comfortable  dames.  The  poor  little  horse  would 
struggle  about  half-way  up  tlie  pitch,  just  above  my 
corner,  and  then,  utterly  spent,  he  would  give  it  up  as 
a  bad  job  and  let  the  whole  thing  go  back  sideways 
into  the  gutter.  Another  little  party  just  behind 
would  go  through  much  the  same  performance,  the 
gutter  being  the  ultimate  result  of  both.  Then  would 
begin  an  allair  of  talk.  Passengers  stopped  to  look 
on  and  give  advice.  After  resting  a  bit  tlie  little  horse 


would  be  roused  by  a  shower  of  goading  reproaches 
to  an  effort ;  but  he  evidently  knew  that  he  was  better 
off  in  the  gutter,  for  a  time,  at  all  events,  and  so  he 
would  shake  his  head  in  reply  to  the  abuse,  make  a 
sudden  spasmodic  rush,  pretend  to  fall  down  on  his 
knees,  and  then  let  the  whole  thing  roll  back  again. 
The  peagant  would  blow  him  up  savagely,  and  threat- 
en to  do  the  cruellest  things  with  his  whip,  but  he 
never  struck  liim.  This  kind  of  performance  was  of 
daily  occurrence.  At  last  it  always  terminated  in  a 
loose  horse  being  brought  down  from  the  Palanka  by 
a  friend,  and  the  goods  and  the  imperturbable  women 
all  arriving  in  the  market  in  their  dignified  position.  It 
is  claimed  for  the  Russian,  by  those  who  have  lived 
some  years  in  that  country,  that  he  is  by  no  means  of 
a  hard  or  cruel  nature,  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  he  is 
of  a  mild  and  patient  disposition.  Certainly  this  treat- 
ment of  the  jibbing  horses  on  the  Boulevard  was  a 
testimony  to  the  truth  of  this  account. 

Among  their  exercises  of  skill,  I  should  not  say 
that  driving  horses  was  the  distinc^uishini]:  excellence 
of  the  men  of  the  upper  ten  thousand.  They  have 
little  practice  of  this  when  young,  as  it  is  the  universal 
custom  to  be  driven  and  not  to  drive.  The  boys  of  a 
family,  even  where  there  is  a  stable  of  horses,  as  a 


/ 


i^ 


102 


A  PRIMITIVE  VEHICLE. 


I 


• 


rule  neither  ride  nor  drive.  I  never  saw  any  man 
of  that  class  on  horseback,  or  with  the  reins  in  his 
hand,  except  here  and  there  a  cavalry  oflicer, — with 
one  exception.  There  is  a  small,  fanciful  carriage  on 
whicli  young  officers,  ambitious  of  the  art  of  driving, 
now  and  then  try  their  inexperienced  hands  to  pilot  it 
through  the  streets.  Tliis  is  the  smallest  and  the  light- 
est, and  indeed  the  most  absurd  of  vehicles.  It  con- 
sists of  one  narrow  plank  connecting  two  pairs  of 
wheels  of  a  diameter  of  about  three  feet.  Suspended 
from  the  plank  by  leather  straps  are  two  shoes,  like 
those  of  a  lady's  saddle,  for  the  driver  s  feet.  There 
are  no  springs. 

Anything  more  thoroughly  primitive,  but  more 
thoroughly  uncomfortable,  than  one  of  these  spider 
carriages  cannot  well  be  imagined.  One  day  a  young 
Russian  gentleman  drove  one  of  these  up  the  boulevard 
under  my  wmdow,  and  pulled  up  at  the  door  of  a 
shop  on  the  slope  of  the  hill.  Having  no  servant  with 
him  he  gave  the  long  reins  a  turn  or  two  round  one 
of  the  line  of  low  stone  posts  which  border  and  sup- 
port the  raised  footway,  by  the  shop  door.  The  horse 
was  a  remarkably  neat  grey  of  the  South  Russian  breed, 
Arab-looking,  light,  young,  and  rather  awkward  in  his 
going,  and  his  driver  struck  me  as  essentially  raw.  The 


AN  IMPATIENT  HORSE. 


103 


whole  thing,  indeed,  appeared  new  and  strange  to  both 
horse  and  driver.  The  carriage  was  a  toy,  bright  and 
shining,  the  boxes  of  the  wheels  silvered,  and  the  har- 
ness elaborate  and  silver-mounted.  I  looked  on  the 
hitching  the  horse  to  the  stone  post  with  a  doubt. 

The  young  man  went  into  the  shop  and  remained 
some  time.  The  horse  thus  left  to  himself  bec!:an  to 
chafe  on  his  bit,  and  then  he  moved  from  side  to  side, 
now  getting  away  till  he  was  stopped  by  the  rein 
round  the  post,  and  then  half  falling  down  as  he 
yawed  back  again  to  the  raised  pathway  and  stumbled 
up  on  to  it.  Becoming  impatient,  and  the  young  man 
not  returning,  the  horse  w^ent  forward  a  pace  or  two 
till  the  rein  pulled  him  up,  and  then  after  a  shake  or 
two  of  his  head  went  backwards.  This  did  very 
well  for  a  time  ;  but  by  degrees  he  backed  so  far  that 
he  passed  the  post,  and  the  rein  began  to  pull  on  him 
backwards.  The  more  he  went  back,  the  more  the 
rein  pulled  him  back.  But  it  acted  unequally,  the 
outer  or  off  rein  shortening  and  the  near  one  slacking. 
Tlius  his  head  was  gagged  and  pulled  round  over  his 
back ;  and  so  he  stumbled  up  the  footway,  lost  his 
footing,  and  tumbled  over  on  his  back  on  the  pitch  of 
the  pathway,  and  slipped  down  between  the  shafts,  all 
his  four  feet  in  the  air.      Just  at  that  moment  the 


104 


RESULTS  OF  DRIVING  THE  "  SPIDER." 


young  man  came  out  of  the  shop  and  found  his  liorse 
and  carriage  in  tliis  awkward  predicament.     He  com- 
menced running  up  and  down  the  pathway,  not  know- 
ing where  to  begin  to  set  matters  to  rights.       Luckily 
the  horse  after  a  struggle  or  two  lay  quiet,  gagged  as  he 
was.     Two  or  three  men  ran  up,  more  accustomed  to 
horses  than  the  owner ;  and  havmg  set  the  head  of  the 
animal  free,  they  put  on  a  good  many  hands,  and  by 
main  force  hauling  on  the  head  and  the  tail,  they  fairly 
pulled  him  out  of  the  gutter  and  over  the  shaft,  and 
set  the  little  Arab  on  his  legs  again— none  the  worse. 
The  young  gentleman  seemed  to  consider  the  whole 
matter  a  very  serious  one,  and  that  driving  the  spider 
might  have  results  not  altogether  consistent  with  safety 
or  pleasure ;  so  after  hesitating  for  a  time  whether  he 
should  or  should  not  mount  again  on  that  thin  plank, 
he  eventually  decided  against  it ;  and  so  handing  over 
the  smart  Httle  turn-out  to  one  of  the  men  who  had 
hauled  on  the  Arab's  tail,  with   many  directions,  he 
went  away  ingloriously,  "  Equo  non  bene  relicto,"  on 
foot. 


k} 


105 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Foundling  Hospital— Extent  and  Purpose  of  the  Establishment— 
Crown  Governesses— Russian  Capacity  for  Governing— A  Sunday 
Visit  to  the  Hospital- The  Buildings  and  Grounds— Internal  Ar- 
rangements-Courtesy of  an  Official-The  Chapel-The  Pupils  in 
Uniform— The  Service— The  Priest— The  Responses— The  Nurseries 
—Costume  of  the  Nurses— The  Superintendents— Messengers,  Ser- 
vants, and  Attendants— The  Nurses  at  Dinner— Number  of  Orphans 
received  Daily— Another  Visit  to  the  Chapel— The  Choir— The 
Papa- Theatrical  IManner  of  the  Russo- Greek  Priests— The  GaUery 
of  Paintings— The  Play  Room. 

|/  ERY  stranger  pays  a  visit  to  the  Institution 
^  *  called  the  Foundling  Hospital.  Tliis  is  not 
merely  a  place  for  the  reception  and  treatment  of 
little  unfortunates,  but  is  likewise  a  school  for  a 
large  number  of  girls,  orphans,  who  are  daughters  of 
indigent  servants  of  the  Crown.  There  are  about 
seven  hundred  of  these  young  persons  at  one  time  in 
the  building,  and  these  receive  a  liberal  education  in 
the  Institution,  while  on  leaving  it  they  are  provided 
with  an  outfit  and  enjoy  small  salaries  according  to  the 
certificates  which  theyhave  gained  in  their  examination. 


I 


106 


THE  FOUNDLING  HOSPITAL. 


For  six  years  after  leaving,  these  young  persons  are 
bound  to  devote  themselves  to  the  Crown  as  govern- 
esses or  school  teachers  in  the  Empire,  except  in  cases 
of  marriage,  when  they  are  free  from  this  obligation, 
and  also  lose  their  salaries. 

Of  the  foundlings  there  are  about  twelve  thousand 
received  here  in  each  year.  They  only  remain  in  the 
building  for  a  few  weeks,  and  then  are  sent  off  into 
the  villages  where  they  are  taken  charge  of  by 
nurses  at  a  regular  charge.  As  the  boys  grow  up  tliey 
are  taught  trades,  and  the  girls  are  instructed  in  suit- 
able employments,  many  of  them  returning  to  the  hos- 
pital as  nurses  and  attendants,  and  even  as  superiors 
in  the  separate  departments,  according  to  their  capa- 
city or  character.  It  is  a  noble  establishment  in  all  its 
detail,  in  its  double  purpose  of  a  charity  and  a  scliool. 

It  is  claimed  for  the  Russian  that  he  possesses  the 
capacity  for  governing  men,  a  power  whicli  involves 
a  fine  sense  of  order  and  a  talent  for  detail.  This  is 
declared  to  be  the  foundation  of  his  superiority  over 
the  more  highly-educated  and  more  refined  Pole  on 
the  west,  and  the  more  numerous  and  more  warlike 
nations  on  his  eastern  borders.  It  is  impossible  to  go 
through  the  Foundling  Hospital  without  being  struck 
with  the  admirable  order  and  completeness  of  detail, 


A  CURSORY  VISIT. 


107 


the  brilliant  cleanliness  and  the  attention  to  health, 
which  reign  throughout  all  the  departments  of  this 
magnificent  establishment.  There  is  nothing  superior 
to  it  in  any  country  in  all  the  substantial  richness  of 
material  employed  and  the  intelligent  knowledge  dis- 
played in  carrying  out  the  object  in  view.  It  is  a 
specimen  of  Russian  ability  to  manage  an  institution 
on  a  large  scale,  and  a  witness  to  the  claim  put  for- 
ward for  them  of  a  capacity  for  governing.  There 
are  those  who  blame  this  institution  on  the  ground  of 
encouragmg  immorality;  but  on  this  I  offer  no 
opinion. 

I  shall  not  offer  here  the  statistics  of  the  Foundlinfr 
Hospital — these  are  in  print  in  many  books  already  ; 
but  I  shall  merely  state  what  pleased  me  in  a  cursory 
visit.  On  inquiry  as  to  the  best  time  to  see  this  fa- 
mous establishment,  I  was  asked,  '\  Why  do  you  not 
go  on  Sunday  morning  and  hear  the  singing  ? — all 
the  young  ladies  sing  in  the  chapel."  Accordingly,  on 
the  next  Sunday  morning  at  ten  o'clock  I  walked  by  the 
Palanka  Market  along  the  Boulevard.  It  was  a  hot  Au- 
gust day,  and  in  August  Moscow  becomes  something 
more  than  dusty.  Turning  off  the  dusty  Boulevard  by 
a  gateway  I  found  myself  within  the  premises,  cool, 
shaded,  quiet,  clean.     A  road  bordered  by  trees  on 


108 


THE  BUILDING  AND  GROUNDS. 


THE  CHAPEL. 


109 


either  side  ran  along  by  a  great  garden  wall  and 
penetrated  into  the  interior  of  the  grounds  at  the 
back  of  the  fine  extensive  pile,  the  front  of  which  faced 
the  river.  Here,  away  from  the  glare  and  noise  and 
dust,  everything  was  scrupulously  neat  and  in  order 
— the  roadway,  the  trees,  the  outer  detached  build- 
ings, where  resided  some  of  the  officers  of  the  estab- 
lishment, the  circular  plot  of  grass  and  flower-garden, 
in  which  was  a  small  ornamental  pavilion  and  around 
which  some  nurses  were  sitting  and  some  children  at 
play.  As  there  is  no  smoke  in  Moscow  everything 
was  as  fresh  as  if  twenty  miles  separated  this  garden 
from  the  great  city,  instead  of  its  being  in  the  very 
middle  of  it.  Going  up  to  the  great  entrance  I  found 
in  the  hall  a  porter  in  the  same  Imperial  livery  for 
porters  in  the  Kremlin — a  scarlet  great-coat  with  a 
cape  reaching  from  his  chin  to  his  feet.  On  inquiring 
for  the  chapel  I  was  at  once  directed  to  a  broad 
flight  of  stone  stairs,  and  on  reaching  a  corridor  at 
the  top  I  was  led  inside  an  ante-room  and  desired  to 
wait.  While  standing  here  I  could  hear  the  echo  of 
many  female  voices  singing  in  chorus  at  a  distance. 
Presently  an  officer  in  a  green  uniform,  a  man  of 
forty  years  of  age  with  an  agreeable  countenance 
approached  from  another  corridor,  and  coming  up  to 


me  with  a  smile,  held  out  his  hand  with  a  frank,  cor- 
dial manner,    and  asked   me  in  French  what  I  re- 
quired.    When  I  said  I  wished,  if  that  could  be  per- 
mitted, to  hear  the  singing  in  the  chapel,  he  at  once 
drew  me  along  by  the  hand  into  the  corridor  by 
which  he  had  come,  and  along  it  in  the  direction  of 
the  voices.     This  corridor  was  broad  and  lofty,  like 
that  of  a  palace,  lit  by  large  deep  embayed  windows, 
and  floored  with  a  fine  polished  parquet.     Men  in 
livery,  and  women  in  a  peculiar   style  of  coloured 
cap  and  apron,  were  standing  about  in  knots  in  the 
windows  and  recesses.     Beyond  these  the  corridor 
opened   at  once   into   the   chapel.     Here  were   the 
whole  seven  hundred  young  persons  in  three   divis- 
ions, and  I  found  myself  in  a  moment  face  to  face 
with  this  imposing  body,  all  standing  up  and  fronting 
the  altar,  from  behind  which   the  officer  and  I  had 
entered.     The  eftect  was  rather  startling.     However, 
the  officer  led  me  to  one  of  the  usual  large  pillars 
near  the  screen  or  Ikonostas.  and  then,  slipping  away 
to  his  own  place  by  another,  left  me  standing  in  this 
most  prominent  situation,   where    I    certainly  could 
liear  and  see  everything,  but  where  every  movement 
on  my  part  during  the  service  was  open  to  the  criti- 
cism of  so  many  liundred  young  eyes.     Happilv  in 


lU 


110 


THE  SINGERS. 


THE  PRIEST. 


Ill 


these  foreign  churches  all  that  a  stranger  is  expected 
to  do  is  to  stand  quite  still. 

The  chapel  was  arranged  in  the  usual  form  of  the 
Greek  Church  with  its  four  immense  pillars ;  but  as 
in  this  case  these  were  only  here  for  the  sake  of  carry- 
ing out  the  conventional  architecture,  and  not  for  the 
support  of  any  cupolas — of  which  there  were  none — 
these  pillars  were  of  moderate  size,  only  six  feet 
square.  The  centre  of  the  chapel  was  occupied  by  a 
large  body  of  the  young  ladies,  about  two  hundred,  in 
a  compact  mass ;  and  then  in  what  may  be  called  the 
two  aisles,  but  which  were,  in  fact,  two  square  rooms, 
were  the  rest  of  the  seven  hundred.  All  were  dressed 
in  a  neat  uniform  of  grey  and  white  body  and  skirts, 
and  small  white  caps.  Here  and  there  at  intervals 
among  them  were  women  with  the  air  each  of  a 
directress  of  her  party  of  pupils.  The  girls  in  the 
centre  were  the  most  advanced  in  age — about  fifteen 
or  sixteen  years  old.  Nothing  could  look  more  neat 
and  orderly.  There  was  one  main  difference  between 
this  chapel  and  the  churches  of  the  city  which  was 
novel  and  particularly  pleasing.  This  was  clean  and 
bright,  with  shining  polished  floor  and  scagliola  pil- 
lars, and  the  Ikonostas,  or  screen,  on  the  raised 
dais  was  a  specimen   of  picturesque  detail    with  its 


golden  doors  and  carpet-covered  platform,  all  lookincy 
fresh  as  if  of  yesterday's  completion ;  whereas  the 
churches  of  the  town,  and  especially  the  two  principal 
ones  in  the  Kremlin,  in  which  reposes  the  dust  of  so 
many  Czars,  are  the  very  reverse  of  all  this— marvels 
of  gaudiness  and  dirt  and  faded  grandeur. 

But  the  service  was  proceeding.  The  priest  was  a 
fine  tall  dark  man,  with  long  flowing  hair,  a  mous- 
tache and  a  beard,  and  in  his  dress  of  white  silk,  with 
gold  Greek  crosses  all  over  it,  he  was  an  imposing 
figure.  He  had  a  rich  deep  voice,  and  when  he 
chanted  the  solo  parts  of  the  service,  and  the  girls  in 
a  body  made  the  responses,  the  effect  was  exceedingly 
musical,  and  even  affecting.  The  contrast  of  the 
manly,  deep-toned  volume  of  voice  of  the  one,  and 
then  the  clear  young  ringing  notes  of  the  other,  with 
a  tender  melancholy  plaint  underlying  them,  had  to  a 
stranger  ear  a  soothing  and  touching  charm. 

When  the  service  was  over  the  young  people  went 
off  in  detachments  at  the  back  of  the  chapel,  and  the 
oflficer  came  to  me,  and  we  walked  away  together. 
On  my  expressing  my  thanks  to  him  for  his  courtesy, 
and  my  gratification  in  the  young  people's  singing,  he 
said, 

''  Ah  !  but  you  should  come  to-morrow — our  sincr- 


I      i 


112 


THE  NURSERIES. 


THE  SUPERINTENDENT. 


113 


ing  to-day  was  only  pretty  well ;  but  to-morrow,  if 
you  will  come,  I  can  promise  you  something  worth 
your  hearing/' 

Of  course  I  accepted  this  invitation.     Then  he  said, 
"  Would  you  like  to  walk  through  the  house  with 
me  now  ?     My  time  is  at  your  service." 

So  we  went.  First  he  took  me  to  the  top  storey  of 
the  building,  where  we  went  through  a  succession  of 
enormous  apartments,  each  about  one  hundred  feet 
long  by  thirty  in  breadth,  all  vaulted,  as  a  defence 
against  the  heat  of  summer  and  the  cold  of  winter ; 
all  very  light,  very  airy,  and  clean  in  all  the  detail  as 
the  apartments  of  any  imperial  palace.  All  the  ma- 
terial, too,  of  everything  looked  rich  and  expensive. 
These  were  the  nurseries  of  the  foundlings.  In  each 
of  these  vaulted  apartments  the  beds,  or  cribs,  speci- 
mens of  neatness,  were  ranged  in  rows,  and  nurses,  in 
a  costume,  were  scattered  all  over  them,  each  with  her 
child,  either  walking  about,  or  sitting  on  the  crib,  at- 
tending to  her  little  charge.  The  costume  of  the 
nurses  was  a  cotton  gown  of  a  red  and  white  pattern, 
and  on  the  head  a  coloured  cap  apparently  of  a  fine 
stuff.  In  one  apartment  the  cap  was  blue,  in  another 
pink,  in  another  red,  in  another  green,  and  so  on. 
The  dress  was  the    same    througliout,    but  the  caps 


marked  the  different  rooms.     All  these  nurses  were 
stout,  strong  women,  healthy,  clean,  robust,  fine  speci- 
mens of  a  peasantry.     Most  of  them  were  of  a  fair 
complexion,   and  some  few  were  moderately  good- 
looking  ;  but  beauty  is  a  rare  flower  in  the  peasant 
gardens   of  Russia.     In    each    apartment   there  was 
seated  a  woman  at  a  little  table.     She  always  rose  at 
the  entrance  of  the  officer,  and  remained  standing. 
This  was  the  superintendent.     On  her  table  were  a 
book  or  two  and  pens  and  ink  and  paper.     She  kept 
an  account  of  all  that  went  on  in  her  room,  slept  in  it, 
and  lived  there,  every  day  going  out  for  a  stipulated 
time   for   air   and    exercise.     All   these    were   of  a 
higher  class,   being   of  those  who  were  brought  up 
in  the  institution  as  orphans,  daughters  of  decayed 
oflficers  and  employes  of  the  Government,  and  who, 
having    returned   to    the   hospital    as    their    home, 
find    a    congenial    occupation    in    these    large   nur- 
series.    As   a  proof  of  the  care    and  attention  and 
absence   of   all  stint   in   the   management   of   these 
little  children  all   the  cribs  were   fitted    with    mos- 
quito curtains  during  the  heat  of  summer.     To  my 
surprise,  too,  there  was  a  pervading  quiet  and  repose 
through  all  these  rooms.     You  rarely  heard  a  cry,  a 
proof  methought  of  the  healthiness  of  the  air  and 


w 


^ 


114 


CAREFUL  INSPECTION. 


THE  NURSES  AT  DINNER. 


11  r> 


I      » 


the  place,  and  the  skilful  and  kindly  ways  of  the  nur- 
ses with  the  children.  The  superintendents  were  all, 
I  observed,  cheerful  people  wdth  pleasing  counte- 
nances, and  many  of  them  wore  the  unmistakable 
mark  of  good  birth  in  face  and  manner.  They  seemed 
most  attentive  in  their  calling,  for  more  than  once, 
when  a  child  did  set  up  its  loud  complaint  and  per- 
sisted, the  superintendent  would  set  off  down  the  long 
apartment  with  swift  and  noiseless  step  to  it  and  its 
nurse,  and  inspect  the  small  thing  herself  as  to  the 
cause,  and  make  suggestions,  remaining  till  peace  was 

* 

restored. 

From  here  we  went  downstairs.  As  we  passed 
along  the  broad  corridors,  so  light,  so  lofty,  on  so 
grand  a  scale,  we  met  various  women.  Some  looked 
like  ladies,  some  like  governesses,  all  neat  in  their 
dress,  of  grey,  or  black,  or  violet,  rather  small  in 
person,  with  a  certain  refinement.  My  companion  had 
a  little  something  kindly  to  say  to  every  one  of  them, 
as  he  had  had  to  the  superintendent  in  the  nurseries 
above — either  a  suggestion  in  some  detail  of  manage- 
ment, or  a  question  respecting  some  young  person,  or 
only  a  simple  word  or  two  of  pleasant  salutation.  All 
these,  the  officer  said,  were  women  who  had  been 
originally  foundlings,  had  been  well  brought  up  in  the 


villages,  and  had  come  back  to  the  Hospital  in  various 
employments  according  to  their  abilities.  Those  we 
met  were  principally  messengers,  servants,  and  attend- 
ants on  the  departments  of  the  young  orphans  on  the 
first  floor  and  tlie  foundlings  above,  each  room  having 
its  own  number  of  them. 

Now  we  came  to  a  hall  in  the  centre  of  the  building 
where  some  thirty  or  forty  little  people  were  at  dinner. 
These  belonged  to  neither  of  the  large  bodies  of  the 
Institution.  Tliey  were  a  small  separate  party,  an 
excrescence  of  cliarity  on  tlie  grander  foundation. 
They  were  here  for  their  health — a  limited  number — 
from  the  city,  temporarily.  What  a  change,  and  what 
an  aid  to  health  for  these  little  folks  to  be  removed 
for  a  time  from  the  confined  places  of  their  humble 
homes  and  bad  air  and  the  unwholesome  food  of 
gourds,  to  these  lofty  apartments  and  their  reviving 
air  and  the  nourishing  sustenance  of  meat,  and  the 
able  treatment  of  the  best  medical  men  of  Moscow. 
They  looked  bright,  and  clean,  and  happy. 

Descending  to  the  basement  we  came  into  a  long 
liall  where  the  nurses  were  at  dinner.  What  a  scene ! 
There  were  two  immense  tables,  and  on  either  side  of 
these  sat  a  hundred  nurses — four  hundred  w^omen. 
In  their  bright  red  and  white  dresses,  and  their  blue, 

T  2 


^1    i 


k 


116 


THE  BILL  OF  FAKE. 


and  red,  and  green  caps,  now  all  intermingled,  and 
their  fresh,  healthy  faces,  they  were  a  remarkable 
siglit.  You  only  heard  a  general  whispering.  At  one 
end  a  lady,  the  superintendent,  overlooked  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  dinner  iii  portions  to  each.  The  din- 
ner consisted  of  a  native  soup  called  schie — a  compo- 
sition of  meat  and  vegetables — buckwheat  stewed, 
and  kvas,  a  native  beer.  Of  course  I  accepted  the 
invitation  of  the  lady-superintendent  to  taste  of  these 
native  products,  and  though  I  cannot  say  with  truth 
that  I  should  prefer  to  share  the  nurse's  repast  to  a 
dinner  at  M.  Dusaux  s  Hotel,  yet  it  was  by  no  means 
unpalatable,  and  the  kvas  of  Russia  is  a  pleasant  and 
refreshing  drink  on  a  hot  day.  Immense  quantities 
of  buckwheat  are  consumed  by  the  Russian  people, 
as  it  is  sweet  to  the  taste  and  very  nourishing  and 
invigorating.  A  g alette  of  buckwheat,  with  salt  and 
pepper,  is  by  no  means  to  be  despised. 

I  asked  the  officer  to  show  me  the  room  in  which 
the  foundlings  are  first  received  in  the  hospital.  He 
took  me  to  a  vaulted  apartment  on  the  ground-floor, 
having  a  private  staircase  to  itself  which  led  to  a 
small  outer  doorway  opening  into  a  large  court.  In 
this  was  a  lady-superintendent  sitting  at  her  table 
with  a  body  of  nurses  standing  around,  all  in  the  con- 


A  DAY  S  ENTRIES. 


117 


ventional  costume.  Of  these  latter  only  five  had 
children  in  their  arms — the  rest,  twenty  and  more, 
were  waiting  for  arrivals.  The  lady  rose  at  our  en- 
trance from  her  little  table  and  her  book  of  entries 
spread    out  on   it,  with  rather  a  concerned    counte- 


nance. 


How  many  have  you  to-day?"  said  the  officer, 
going  up  to  her  with  a  smiling  face. 

"Look,"  she  exclaimed,  pointing  to  her  book, 
"only  five!" 

"That  is  but  a  few  indeed,"  he  observed. 

"Very  few,  very  few,"  repeated  the  lady,  quite 
with  a  tone  of  distress ;  "  and  it's  getting  late.  To- 
da)',  I  am  afraid,  is  going  to  be  a  bad  day." 

"  Oh !"  said  the  oflScer,  "  it  is  not  very  late,  there 
is  time  enough  yet  for  more." 

Thus  he  afforded  lier  consolation.  It  was  rather  a 
a  surprise  to  me  that  tlie  lady  selected  for  this  especial 
post  of  conferring  with  tlie  bringers-in  of  the  small 
unfortunates  was  the  prettiest  person  I  had  seen  in  the 
whole  establishment.  She  was  not  more  than  twenty- 
six  or  twenty-seven  years  of  age  apparently,  she  had 
good  features,  a  fresh  and  blooming  complexion,  so 
unlike  the  generality  of  Russian  women,  a  fine  figure, 
and   a   laughing   countenance,    beaming   with    good 


118 


THE  SUPERINTENDENT  S  GALA  DAYS. 


A  TRUE  OFFICIAL. 


119 


humour.     And  now  she  put  on  an  air  of  concern  be- 
cause there  were  so  few  children  come  in. 

^'  How  many  nurses  do  you  have  ready  in  the  room 
generally?"  said  I. 

*' Thirty-five  is  our  number,"  replied  the  officer; 
•'  we  rarely  find  that  we  exceed  that  amount." 

''  Thirty-five  per  day  !"  I  exclaimed  with  a  natural 
and,  I  hope,  a  pardonable  surprise  at  this  daily  crop 
of  young  fruit  in  this  field  of  humanity. 

^'  Oh !  yes  ;  sometimes  we  go  over  that — we  do  in- 
deed !"  the  lady  broke  in  with  an  eagerness  and  an 
air  of  pleasure  as  she  seemed  to  remember  the  tri- 
umphant fact.  It  was  evident  that  she  took  a  pride 
in  her  office,  and  considered  that  the  days  of  over 
thirty-five  were  her  gala  days — days  of  honour  and 
glory — when  she  could  meet  her  enemies  in  the  gate, 
with  her  quiver  full,  and  could  lie  down  in  her  bed 
at  night  with  a  quiet  conscience.  In  spirit  she  was  a 
Spartan  matron,  deserving  of  high  reward. 

I  suggested  to  the  officer  that  perhaps,  now  that 
serfdom  was  banished  from  the  villages,  people  were 
becoming  very  good  and  moral  and  a  zeal  for  marry- 
ing was  growing  up.  He  shook  his  head  and  laughed, 
and  so  did  the  pretty  superintendent,  but  with  a  co- 
mical air  as  if  she  deprecated  that  view  of  the  matter 


altogether,  as  one  in  a  manner  injurious  to  herself  and 
her  office.  It  was  clear  that  this  engaging  person 
looked  at  the  credit  of  the  establishment  first,  and 
that  this  consisted  in  numbers.  Her  pride  was  in 
hosts,  as  a  preacher  would  feel  a  pride  in  a  crowded 
congregation,  or  a  general  in  added  legions.  Any 
check  upon  the  maintenance  of  the  lady's  legions  in  the 
shape  of  matrimony  or  morality  she  would  hold  to  be 
an  invasion  of  her  domain.  The  superintendent  was 
a  true  official.  The  officer  and  I  took  our  leave  of 
her  with  a  kindly  wish  on  the  part  of  both  that  things 
might  mend  in  the  afternoon;  but  she  shook  her  head, 
as  if  she  was  hurt  at  our  finding  her  with  more  than 
twenty  empty-handed  nurses.  On  her  bonny  face  was 
the  expression  one  sees  on  that  of  a  suffering  man  on 
the  bank  of  a  noted  trout-stream.  In  reply  to  the 
inquiry  of  a  passer-by :  Have  you  had  any  sport  ?  he 
points  to  a  poor  little  creel  of  five. 

As  we  went  down  the  short  flight  of  steps  to  the 
side-door  a  woman  passed  us  with  a  bundle  in  her 
arms. 

''  There  is  some  comfort  for  our  friend  upstairs," 
said  the  officer. 

I  asked  him  how  it  happened  that  the  prettiest  and 
most  smiling  young   woman  in  the  place  had  been 


120 


THE  GALLERIES  OF  THE  CHAPEL. 


THE  CONGREGATION  AND  SINGERS. 


121 


M 


il 


selected  for  this  peculiar  office,  and  suggested  that  a 
more  staid  and  older  person  would  have  been  more 
appropriate.  He  did  not  appear  to  see  any  force  in 
my  view  of  the  matter,  but  only  lauglied,  and  said 
the  place  had  become  vacant  and  she  liad  applied  for 
it,  and  was  a  most  excellent  and  energetic  person. 
She  was  one  of  the  lady  orphans  brought  up  in  the 
institution.  I  debated  in  myself  as  I  walked  home  if 
this  daily  living  in  this  peculiar  atmosphere  might  not 
affect  this  engaging  person's  ideas  about  matrimony. 

On  the  following  morning  I  found  myself,  as  by 
appointment,  at  the  hour  named  by  the  officer,  in  the 
corridor  leading  to  the  chapel.  He  was  already 
there,  and  then  taking  me  by  a  different  way  he 
said, 

"  You  will  hear  the  singing  much  better  upstairs 
in  the  gallery,  so  I  will  put  you  in  a  good  place." 

Accordingly  he  led  me  up  a  flight  of  stairs  outside 
the  chapel.  There  were  but  few  persons  in  the  gal- 
leries, which  were  ample  spaces  spreading  out  over 
the  two  side  aisles,  and  forming  part  of  the  centre  of 
the  building — level  spaces  without  benches  or  seats  of 
any  kind.  In  fact  there  are  no  seats  in  a  Greek 
church,  with  the  exception  of  a  bench  here  and  there 
in  recesses,  or  against  the  outei*  wall.     The  congrega- 


tion kneel  or  stand.  A  thin  line  of  people,  principally 
ladies,  stood  leaning  on  the  low  baluster  which  ran 
all  round  the  gallery,  and  looking  down  into  the  body 
of  the  chapel.  The  officer  placed  me  in  front  of  the 
centre  gallery,  between  two  ladies,  immediately  oppo- 
site the  Ikonostas.  Thus  I  commanded  the  entire  in- 
terior. Immediately  below  me  was  the  principal 
body  of  the  young  ladies  in  front  of  the  screen,  which 
on  it's  raised  dais  with  its  gilded  gates  in  the  middle, 
and  its  smaller  equally  gilded  doors  on  either  side, 
and  its  platform  in  front  covered  with  a  small  carpet, 
had  a  brilliant  effect.  To  the  right  and  left  below 
were  the  other  two  bodies  of  orphans,  while  up  in  the 
galleries,  scattered  along  the  back  by  the  windows, 
were  a  number  of  young  women  in  white  caps  and 
neatly  dressed.  The  officer  having  placed  me  to  his 
satisfaction  went  down  again  to  his  official  position  at 
a  pillar  by  the  Ikonostas. 

To-day  the  priest  was  in  a  different  dress.  On  the 
day  previous  this  had  been  a  white  dress  with  gold 
Greek  crosses ;  to-dav  it  was  of  claret  colour  with 
gold  crosses  all  over  it,  the  last  by  far  the  most  effect- 
ive. There  was  a  small  desk  or  lectern  on  the  plat- 
form, the  only  object  there,  in  front  of  the  golden 
gates.     Presently  the  priest  came  out  through  one  of 


122 


PLAINTIVE  MELODY. 


PAPAS  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 


123 


I 


ti 


the  side  doors,  and  stood  by  the  lectern  with  his  back 
to  the  people,  and  chanted  a  long  prayer  in  a  fine 
deep  rich  voice,  and  after  this  the  girls  sang.  The 
principal  singers  were  immediately  below  me,  and 
had  the  written  music  in  their  hands.  Many  of  the 
young  folks  seemed  to  be  more  given  up  to  the  man- 
ner of  the  performance  rather  than  to  the  matter,  for 
there  was  a  deal  of  nudging,  and  whispering,  and  cor- 
recting each  other.  However,  the  swell  of  the  body 
of  voice  and  the  melancholy  of  the  cadences  at  times 
filled  the  church  with  their  peculiar  charm.  Here 
and  there  a  voice  would  distinguish  itself  from  the 
mass  of  sound,  and  rise  clear  and  full  and  tender 
above  the  others,  and  prolong  the  note,  and  pervade 
the  place  with  an  indescribably  plaintive  melody. 
You  felt  sorry  when  it  sank  into  the  general  chorus, 
and  watched  and  listened  for  it  again.  After  the 
priest  had  chanted  his  part,  and  the  female  voices 
rose  once  more  into  the  swelling  strain,  you  were 
disappointed  if  the  voice  did  not  come,  till  it  gradual- 
ly seemed  to  steal  out  from  the  body  of  sound,  and 
again  surround  you  with  its  toucliing  tenderness.  No- 
thing could  more  feelmgly  express  the  sentiment  of 
the  religious  heart  appealing  to  the  mercy  of  the  pity- 
ing Creator.     This  plaintiveness  is  much  cultivated  in 


the  Greek  church.  Here  and  there  one  of  these 
young  ladies  would  remain  on  her  knees  the  entire 
time,  while  the  others  rose  up  and  stood  and  were  a 
little  occupied  wdth  putting  their  dress  to  rights,  their 
white  aprons,  or  their  banded  hair,  as  is  the  way  with 
young  ladies  in  all  lands  even  in  serious  moments.  I 
could  not  help  connecting  the  plaintive  singer  with 
one  of  these  persistent  devotees  on  her  knees,  her 
head  bent  over  her  folded  hands,  and  regardless  of 
her  apron  and  her  hair. 

But  there  is  one  thing  which  strikes  a  stranger  in 
the  papa's  performance  of  the  service  in  all  the  Greek 
churches,  and  this  is  the  irreverent  and  careless  and, 
in  many,  the  theatrical  air  of  the  man.  These  men 
everywhere,  whether  at  Jerusalem  or  at  Moscow,  and 
at  all  times,  are  got  up  immensely  for  effect,  with 
their  long  curling  and  flowing  hair,  their  full  and 
glossy  beards,  their  carefully-managed  moustaches, 
and  their  long  silken  dress  and  spreading  Spanish  hat. 
In  the  church  and  clothed  in  gorgeous  robes  they 
are  grand  and  effective  specimens  of  men.  Now  this 
papa  of  the  hospital,  in  his  splendid  costume,  was  per- 
petually coming  out  from  the  Holy  of  Holies  behind  the 
closed  and  gilded  central  gates,  coming  out  by  one  of 
the  side  doors  on  to  the  platform,  chanting  a  sentence 


124 


THE  PAPA  OF  THE  HOSPITAL. 


CONTENTMENT  OF  THE  INMATES. 


125 


II 


{> 


or  two,  and  then  going  away  and  disappearing  by  the 
other  little  gilt  side-door.  When  he  came  out,  he 
did  so  with  a  free  and  easy  air,  swinging  his  hands 
and  arms,  his  fine  head  erect,  his  body  a  little  tlirown 
back  instead  of  forward,  a  liappy  assurance  in  his 
gait  and  movement,  and  then  he  went  off  in  the  same 
fashion.  You  would  then  hear  a  low  deep  tone  or 
two  issuing  from  somewhere  behind  the  screen  in  a 
muffled  way,  as  a  kind  of  echo,  and  then  in  a  mo- 
ment out  he  came  again  with  a  hurried  step  in  a 
jaunty  sort  of  fashion.  This  is  the  manner  rather  af- 
fected by  these  men,  one  would  suppose,  from  its  fre- 
quent use.  I  was  glad  when  this  man's  part  was 
over,  for  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  Jack-in-a-box 
all  the  while  ;  and  when  the  sweet  voices  of  the  girls 
rose  and  swelled,  as  one  might  imagine  of  the  angelic 
choir,  in  a  body  of  sound,  melodious  and  tender, 
floating  up  through  the  galleries,  it  seemed  as  an  in- 
cense of  praise  and  thanksgiving  to  God  for  what  he 
had  induced  kindly  hearts  to  do  for  them  in  this  noble 
institution,  an  incense  from  fresh  and  innocent  hearts. 
The  young  persons  standing  about  by  the  walls  and 
the  windows  at  the  back  of  the  galleries  were  either 
lady-superintendents  from  the  vaulted  apartments  of 
the  foundlings  above — I  looked  for,  but  could  not  see 


my  engaging  acquaintance  from  the  reception-room 
on  the  ground-floor — or  they  were  foundlings  them- 
selves who  had  become  the  servants  and  attendants 
of  the  establishment.  Tlie  former  were  dressed  ra- 
ther handsomely  in  silk,  the  latter  neatly.  On  all 
the  faces  that  I  could  see  near  enough  to  observe 
them  was  an  expression  of  quiet  contentment.  They 
were  amiable  and  pleasing — indeed,  one  could  scarce- 
ly suppose  that  persons  whose  dispositions  were  other- 
wise would  find  a  life  of  any  satisfaction  in  this  estab- 
lishment for  care  of  children  under  a  very  strict  and 
attentive  supervision.  But  even  here  tliere  seemed 
to  be  one  exception — so  at  least  it  appeared  to  me. 
Now  and  then  my  eye  would  wander  from  the  papa 
and  the  young  ladies  to  the  galleries,  and  somehow  it 
was  attracted  by  a  young  fair  person — once  a  found- 
ling— in  the  farthest  corner  by  a  window.  She  was 
in  a  liglit-coloured  cb:ess,  and  her  toilette  seemed  to 
occupy  her  attention  a  good  deal ;  in  fact,  her  time 
was  taken  up  between,  this  and  looking  out  of  win- 
dow. No  one  had  books.  Standing  next  to  her  was 
a  young  woman  who  seemed  to  devote  much  of  her 
time  to  keeping  her  neighbour  to  some  little  observ- 
ance of  the  service.  When  the  moment  would  come 
for  all  to  kneel  this  one  was  deep  in  some  arrange- 


AV 


126 


AN  EXCEPTION. 


ment  of  her  hair,  and  her  companion  had  to  pull  her 
down  by  her  dress.  But  then  she  did  not  arrive  at 
her  kneehng  till  her  apron  was  properly  smoothed 
and  in  its  precise  place,  and  the  pockets  to  her  satis- 
faction. When  the  time  came  to  stand  up  again,  and 
her  companion  removed  her  hands  from  before  her 
eyes,  she  found  an  elaborate  toilette  going  on — the 
neck-tie  w^as  all  wrong  and  had  been  untied.  Between 
the  getting  up  and  the  righthig  of  the  neck-tie  there 
was  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  the  friend  showing  much 
distress  in  her  attempts  to  cover  all  this  delay  in  get- 
ting up,  and  this  irreverent  conduct  of  the  neck-tie. 
All  this  righted,  something  attracted  the  young  eyes 
out  of  the  window,  and  the  friend  found  her  neighbour 
turning  her  back  nearly  in  the  direction  of  the  gorge- 
ous papa  in  her  anxiety  about  the  outer  world  ; — and 
so  it  went  on  to  the  end  w^henever  I  chanced  to  look 
in  that  direction. 

Poor  young  thing,  methought,  this  is  not  your  place. 
How  come  you  here,  whea  your  heart  and  your 
thoughts  are  not  in  this  Sinai,  but  far  away  in  Egypt 
with  the  pleasant  jewels  of  gold  and  jewels  of  silver 
and  bright  raiment  ?  That  good  little  Ruth  by  your 
side  may  do  all  she  can  to  impart  to  you  some  of  her 
simple  and  loving  nature,  but  in  vain.  She  may  try  to 


GALLERY  OF  PAINTINGS. 


127 


conceal  from  other  eyes  by  her  pretty  care  your  heed- 
less ways,  but  some  day  you  will  probably  burst  out 
from  what  is  to  you  only  a  splendid  cage,  and  go  off 
into  the  sunny  but  slippery  world  of  Moscow. 

After  the  service  the  officer  joined  me,  and  invited 
me  to  see  the  gallery  of  paintings — portraits  of  the 
benefactors  of  the  institution.  These  were  in  a  fine 
broad  corridor.  Here  was  the  Empress  Katherine 
the  Second,  under  whom  the  establishment  commenc- 
ed— Katherine,  with  her  handsome  face  and  smilins: 
eyes,  scarcely  virtuous,  but  still  a  generous  and  bene- 
volent and  high-hearted  woman,  and  a  grand  adminis- 
trator. Here  Avas  Betski,  the  philanthropist,  a  good 
but  eccentric  man,  in  a  most  eccentric  costume,  but 
who  had  much  to  do  with  the  foundation  of  this  mag- 
nificent charity  ; — and  here  was  Demidoff*,  then  a  mer- 
chant, and  ennobled  by  Katherine  for  his  splendid 
share  by  gifts  of  money  in  the  maintenance  of  this 
hospital,  besides  many  other  Russian  notables.  Of 
course  among  them  were  frowning  and  superb  Nicho- 
las and  amiable  Alexander.  Beyond  this  gallery  was 
a  fine  apartment,  broad  and  long  and  lofty.  This 
was  the  play-room  of  the  young  lady  orphans.  By  the 
officer  s  account  here  were  rare  games  of  romps  daily 
in  winter  and  in  bad  weather,  besides  little  festas.     It 


128 


FEMALE  FRIENDSHIPS. 


12!) 


H 


fi 


was  pleasant  to  imagine  the  young  orphan  folks  throw- 
ing off  for  the  nonce  dry  history  and  the  use  of  the 
globes,  and  with  music  and  songs,  and  blind  man's 
buff,  and  puss  in  the  corner,  catching  childish  folly  as 
it  flies.  The  officer  and  I  met  various  knots  of  these 
young  ladies  as  we  strolled  along  the  noble  corridors ; 
and  it  struck  me,  if  one  might  judge  by  the  number  of 
pairs  of  interlacing  arms  and  clasping  hands,  and  en- 
circling embracings,  and  immensely  earnest  and  whis- 
pering, of  course  confidential,  conversation  in  corners, 
that  this  institution  was,  in  this  part  of  it,  a  grand 
manufactory  of  eternal  and  undying  female  friend- 
ships. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Count  L His  Proficiency  in  the  English  Language — Invited  to 

visit  his  Estate — Journey  in  a  Tarantass — Social  Courtesy — Agri- 
culture in  Russia— Russian  Villages— The  Cottages  of  the  Peasantry 
—Family  Party- The  Law  of  Inheritance— Large  Families— The 
Subdivision  of  Property— Reduced  Nobles- The  Abolition  of  Serf- 
dom—Russian Soldiers— Nobles  and  Serfs — Abuse  of  Power — Ar- 
rangement of  the  House— Grooms  and  Horses  v.  Wife  and  Children 
—South  Downs— Horses  and  Cattle—Rotation  of  Crops— -Extensive 
Gardens — Reminiscences  of  the  Count — The  Family  Roof-tree — 
Impromptu  Dinner  in  the  Wood. 


/^NE  morning  I  was  sitting  in  the  shaded  breakfast- 

^^      room  when  the  landlord  entered. 

**  M  Dusaux,"  said  I  "  is  there  any  farm  near  the 
town  that  you  could  help  me  to  see  and  walk 
over  ?  " 

"There  is  one  belonging  to  one  of  my  friends/'  he 
replied,  "  a  few  wersts  away,  which  he  would  be  hap- 
py to  show  you  over,  I  am  sure  ;  I  have  my  butter 
and  cream  from  him.  But,"  he  went  on,  "there  is 
a  gentleman  very  often  in  this  house  who  is  very  fond 


130 


COUNT  L- 


INVITED  TO  VISIT  HIS  FARM. 


131 


Hi 


of  farming.  Count  L- 


'O' 


who  lives    a  few  wersts 


from  Moscow,  and  he  sends  me  liis  farm  produce  too ; 
he  will  show  you  everything.  When  he  comes  into 
^I  scow  he  always  lives  in  my  house,  and  I  am  ex- 
pecting him  to-morrow.  T  will  tell  him  you  are  here, 
if  vou  like." 

This  appeared  to  be  a  happy  chance,  so  T  at  once 
accepted  this  proposal. 

Accordingly,  on  the  following  morning,  I  was,  as 
usual,  in  my  shaded  corner,  when  a  Russian  gentle- 
man, in  a  military  undress  uniform,  entered  the  room. 
He  was  of  middle  age,  a  tall,  fine-looking  man,  with 
a  dark  complexion  and  sparkling  eyes,  and  a  bright, 
intelligent  countenance.  Coming  up  to  my  table  with 
a  frank  and  cordial  manner,  he  held  out  his  hand, 
made  me  an  easy  bow,  and  announced  himself  in 
capital  English.  This  was  very  engaging,  and  so,  in 
the  course  of  a  few  minutes,  we  were  in  a  flow  of 
talk,  as  if  we  were  old  acquaintances  of  years.  On 
my  asking  him  where  he  had  learnt  to  speak  my  lan- 
guage so  well,  for  his  English  was  good,  free,  and 
idiomatic,  he  replied, 

"  I  learned  it  when  I  was  a  boy,  of  an  English  tutor 
in  our  family  ;  and  then  I  had  English  horses  and 
English  grooms  in  my  stable  for  many  years :  they  are 


all  gone  now ;  but  this  of  course  kept  it  up  a  little. 
But  now  I  liave  so  little  opportunity  of  speaking  it 
tliat  I  have  forgotten  it  a  good  deal." 

It  did  not  appear  to  me  to  be  at  all  forgotten.  He 
then  said  he  liad  heard  from  M.  Dusaux  of  my  wish 
to  see  his  farm ;  and  our  interview  ended  in  his  in- 
viting me  to  come  down  and  see  his  cows  and  sheep 
and  so  on. 

"  Not  that  I  liave  much  cattle,"  he  added ;  "  but 
what  I  liave  I  shall  be  very  pleased  to  show  you."  So 
it  was  arranged. 

It  appeared  that  the  estate  of  Count  L was 

about  twenty-four  English  miles  to  the  north  of  Mos- 
cow. The  famous  convent  of  Troitsa— holy  Troitsa— 
was  on  that  side,  and  the  railway  to  it  stopped  at  a 
station  called  Pouskino,  fourteen  miles  from  the  vil- 
lage where  the  L House  was  situated.     So,  a  few 

mornings  after  my  meeting  the  Count,  I  set  off  early 
to  the  Troitsa  railway  station.  Arriving  at  the 
Pouskino  station,  I  found  a  number  of  small  pony- 
carriages  of  the  country,  tarantass  build,  drawn  by 
two  ponies.  The  tarantass  has  no  springs.  It  runs 
on  four  wheels  and  carries  four  persons— two  in  front 
and  two  behind ;  in  fact,  a  small  light  waggon.  The 
seats  were  of  sacks  stuffed  with  hay.     My  driver  was 

K  2 


132 


JOURNEY  IN  A  TARANTASS. 


SOCIAL  COURTESY. 


133 


a  small  man,  with  a  red  beard,  and  tlie  ponies  were 
strong  and  bony,  about  twelve  hands  high,  but  la- 
mentably bare  of  flesh.  We  were  soon  trotting  along 
at  a  good  pace  on  a  grassy  track  which  I  supposed 
would  soon  lead  us  to  a  road.  We  entered  a  fir 
wood,  but  there  was  only  a  track  which  we  followed 
in  and  out  between  the  stumps  of  the  trees  which  had 
been  cut  oflF,  and  sometimes  over  them,  the  stems 
partly  left.  It  was  evident  that  the  railway  station 
had,  in  a  manner,  dropped  down  into  the  edge  of  this 
wood  without  any  preparation  for  it  or  any  immediate 
connexion  with  any  road  or  village.  As  we  went  on 
mile  after  mile  across  the  open  country,  now  and  then 
skirting  some  houses,  and  then  launcliing  out  again 
into  the  wild,  I  began  to  suspect  there  were  no  roads 
at  all,  in  the  British  sense  of  the  word — at  least  that 

there  was  none  from  Pouskino  to  L House.   And 

yet  when  I  had  got  out  at  that  station,  and  had  only 
mentioned  tliis  name  to  the  five  or  six  tarantass  ap- 
plicants for  my  person  every  driver  of  them  seemed 
to  know  it  well.  Now  as  T  drove  along  and  found 
nothing  but  tracks,  crossing  each  other  at  intervals,  I 
could  not  but  suspect  that  as  there  was  no  road,  but 
only  a  rude  track,  for  the  fourteen  miles  from  Pous- 
kino to   L House,   there    must    be   few  houses 


of  this  character  in  this  part  of  the  country.     So  it 
proved. 

However  the  day  was  a  fine  warm  August  day,  the 
country  waving,  cultivated,  and  wooded,  and  the  ponies 
jogged  along  at  a  good  pace  with  their  rough  little 
carriage,  picking  their  way   cleverly    among  stumps 
and  roots  of  trees,  or  along  the  edge  of  deep  marshy 
ground,  or  in  and  out  of  holes  and  hollows  between 
banks  w^here  a  broken  axle  or  an  upset  appeared  to 
be  quite  as  probable  as  not.     But  the  intelligence  of 
the  ponies  was  superior  to  all  this.     They  seemed  to 
know  exactly  when  to  creep,  and  exactly  when  to 
trot  along  at  a  good  pace.     We  met  other  tarantasses 
continually.     Some   of  a   better    finish    or    superior 
material,  but  still  all   built  on  the   same  principle — a 
light  waggon  without  springs.     There  was  here  in  the 
countr}',  as  well  as  there  was  in  Moscow,  an  immense 
deal  of  social  courtesy,  all  people  taking  off  their  hats 
or  caps  on  meeting ;  the  drivers  to  each  other  as  well 
as  the  driven,  whether  gentry  or  peasants.     Certainly 
this  small  change  of  social  currency  is  less  conmion  in 
England  than  elsewhere.     With  us  it  is  the  exception ; 
with  Russians,  and,   indeed,   with  most  other  Conti- 

• 

nental  peoples,  it  is  the  rule.     Here  we  all  saluted 
each  other  as  we  passed. 


i 


134 


THE  VILLAGES. 


COMFORTLESS  APPEARANCE  OF  THE  HOUSES.       135 


There  were  no  fences  to  the  separate  fields,  of 
course,  neither  is  there  in  most  parts  of  Germany; 
and  yet  there  is  in  the  latter  country  a  certain  dis- 
tinctness of  boundary,  a  narrow  strip  of  grass  of  a 
foot's  breadth,  or  a  two -foot  ditch — something  to  mark 
the  division — and  the  ground  cultivated  carefully  up 
to  the  limits.  But  this  was  not  so  m  Russia.  There 
was  a  carelessness  and  rudeness  in  the  detail  of  culti- 
vation. The  crops  were  poor,  the  fields  quite  indis- 
tinctly marked,  much  ground  apparently  half  tilled, 
and  thus  wasted,  on  either  side  of  the  boundary.  But 
the  villages  were  remarkable.  There  appeared  to 
be  in  the  Russian  peasant  mind  an  absence  of  the 
idea  of  a  garden  or  enclosure  as  connected  with  a 
cottage.  For  instance,  as  we  drove  up  to  a  village  of 
considerable  pretensions  there  was  a  broad  green 
grass  track  right  through  it  from  end  to  end.  The 
cottages,  all  of  wood  and  unpainted,  each  of  only  one 
storey  with  a  raised  and  covered  verandah  along  the 
front,  all  stood  out  on  the  grass,  sometimes  singly, 
somethnes  two  or  more  in  a  line,  but  not  one  had  a 
bit  of  garden  or  enclosure  of  any  kmd  adjoining  it. 
They  all  had  the  look  of  wooden  sheds  erected  on  an 
open  grass  field  for  a  temporary  purpose,  to  be  re- 
moved any  day — card-houses-dro])ped  there  by  chance. 


There  was  a  bare  and  utterly  comfortless  air  about 
the  whole  village,  and  this  is  the  usual  appearance  of 
the    Russian  villages.      The  roofs,  too,  are  of  straw 
thatch,  and  this  instead  of  being  worked  into  a  firm 
compact  mass,  capable  of  resisting  wind  and  weather, 
as  is  our  English  thatch,  is  altogether  loose  and  is 
only  held  in  its  place  by  long  poles  crossing  it  all  over 
at  riglit  angles  and  fastened  imperfectly,  tlie   ends  of 
the  poles  sticking  out  above  and  below  the  roof  in 
ragged  disorder.     The  wind  and  snow  derange  these 
loose  roofs,  and  so  it  is  the  usual  thing  in  a  village  to 
see  large  rents  in  the  roofs  of  six-tenths  of  the  cot- 
tages.    These  remain  uncared  for  during  the  summer 
and  are  only  mended  under  necessity  at  the  last  mo- 
ment, when  the  winter  cold  begins  again.     There  is 
another  cause  of  the  disorderly  air  of  these  villages. 
No  house  scarcely  is  in  a  horizontal  position  as  to  its 
roof ;  and  few  cottages  are  perpendicular  as  to  their 
sides,  for  the  uprights  at  one  end  or  the  other  have 
sunk,  and  so  the  house  heels  over,    In  one  village  you 
may  see  but  a  few  tipsy  buildings,  in  the  next  the 
whole  collection  is  thoroughly  drunk. 

It  being  early  I  came  upon  some  villagers  en  des- 
habille. The  child  population  were  out  on  the  grass 
track  in  their  night-dresses ;  at  least  they  had  on  each 


136 


FAMILY  TARTY. 


\i 


il 


but  one  solitary  and  short  garment,  while  the  smaller 
boys  were  even  without  this.  It  was  glorious  summer, 
and  the  urchins  seemed  to  enjoy  their  liberty  to  the 
full.  Throuo-hout  the  whole  drive  of  fourteen  miles  I 
saw  only  four  country  houses  of  the  upper  classes,  two 
of  these  on  a  wooded  hill,  though  here  and  there  the 
well-known  lofty,  many-windowed  buildings  with  a 
tall  chimney  near  at  hand,  so  familiar  to  the  eye  in 
the  British  isles,  were  conspicuous. 

At  the  end  of  two  hours  the  driver  pointed  to  a 
large  house  in  our  front  by  some  trees,  and  exclaim- 
ed, '^  We  are  arrived ;"  and  as  we  drove  up  the 
Count  L was  in  the  verandah  of  the  ground- 
floor,  and  gave  me  a  cheery  welcome.  In  a  few 
minutes  we  went  upstairs  to  the  first  floor,  and  out 
upon  a  broad  and  long  balcon\',  some  forty  feet  long 
by  fifteen  broad,  roofed  over.  Here  were  sofas  and 
chairs,  and  the  breakfast-table  with  an  enormous 
familv  silver  samovar  steamin<]^  and  bubblin<^-  in  its 
centre,  coffee,  too,  and  various  dishes. 

Here    the    little  family  party  was  assembled,  the 

Count  L ,  his  wife,  two  young  boys,   their  sons, 

and  a  Russian  gentleman  of  middle  age,  an  old  friend 

of  the  family.  Monsieur  B .  The  Countess  was  much 

younger  than  her  husband,  rather  small,   pretty,  and 


COURTEOUS  RECEPTION. 


137 


evidently  descended  from  a  Sclavonian  family  by  the 
peculiar  colour  of  the  eyes  and  skin  and  the  forma- 
tion of  the  face.  Nothing  could  be  more  thoroughly 
courteous  and  friendly  than  the  manner  of  my  recep- 
tion. Our  conversation  met  on  the  common  ground 
of  the  French  language,  and  at  once  we  were  in  the 
midst  of  talk  alternately  about  our  two  countries,  noAV 
about  England  and  now  about  Russia.  The  Count, 
though  he  spoke  my  language  admirably,  yet  had 
never  been  in  England,  in  fact,  to  my  surprise,  never 
out  of  Russia.  He  had  more  than  once  been  on  the 
point  of  starting  for  England,  but  somethinfr  had  al- 
ways  prevented  him. 

From  the  balcony  you  looked  out  all  over  the 
country,  a  wide  landscape  of  rather  level  ground,  but 
with  one  wooded  ridge  of  hills  bounding  it  at  one 
side.  A  river  of  about  twenty  yards  in  breadth 
ran  through  the  ground  near  the  house,  dividing  some 
fine  meadows  from  it. 

Could  there  be  any  more  charming  combination  of 
circumstances  to  a  traveller  than  this — a  fine  August 
morning,  a  sunny  landscape  of  waving  plain  and 
wooded  hills,  a  shaded  balcony  furnished  as  a  large 
room,  and  a  family  party  full  of  conversation  and  of 
easy   and   unaffected   manners.     On   the  coffee-cups, 


^< 


138 


THE  COUNTESS  S  NEIGHBOURS. 


LAW  OF  INHERITANCE. 


139 


¥i 


Hi 

if' 
41 


if 


I  I 


which  were  of  a  Parisian  form  and  richly  painted, 
making  one  think   of  Sevres   artists,    I   observed   a 

crown  ;  and  on  subsequent  inquiry  of  Monsieur  B , 

the  friend  of  the  family,  as  to  the  meaning  of  this 
crown,  he  said  that  the  cups  had  come  to  the  Count 
from  his  mother,  who  was  of  the  old  Rurik  race,  the 
old  royal  blood  of  Russia  before  the  Romanoff  family. 
On  my  observing  to  the  Countess  that  they  appeared 
to  have  some  good  neighbours,  alludmg  to  the  two 
large  and  handsome  white  houses  on  the  wooded 
ridge  in  sight,  she  answered,  with  an  expression  of 
sadness, 

"  No,  indeed,  I  have  not  any  neighbours  now. 
1  iiings  are  very  much  altered  within  these  few  years 
in  all  parts  of  Russia,  and  particularly  round  here. 
Those  two  houses  belong  now  to  persons  we  do  not 
know,  lately  come  there ;  but,"  she  added,  "  I  do  not 
now  much  feel  the  want.  If  I  wish  for  them  I  go  to 
xMoscow  and  stay  a  few  days  there  and  see  my  friends, 
and  here  I  am  very  happy  at  home  with  my  husband 
and  my  children." 

It  appeared  that  these  were  men  of  the  mercantile 
class,  who  had  made  fortunes  in  mills  and  trade 
speculations,  and  had  bought  these  estates. 

''  But,"  said  I,  "  how  came  these  estates  for  sale  at 


f 


all  ?     Was  there  no  son  to  inherit  in  either  case — no 
elder  son  ?" 

''  Oh !"  said  the  Count,  ''  we  have  no  inheritance 
now  of  that  kind  in  Russia,  no  advantage  of  primo- 
geniture. When  a  proprietor  dies  his  estate  is  divided 
among  his  children,  sons  and  daughters." 

I  was  not  aware  that  this  was  the  law  in  its  full 
extent,  and  said  so. 

''  It  is  unfortunately  true,"  said  the  Count.  "  Peter 
the  Great  foresaw  the  downfall  of  the  great  families 
one  day  under  this  law  of  division,  and  he  introduced 
a  law  of  inheritance  for  the  eldest  son  ;  but  this  was 
opposed  to  all  the  old  customs  and  traditions  of  the 
country,  and  it  created  so  much  discontent  that  it  was 
abolished  in  a  few  years,  somewhere  about  the  middle 
of  the  last  century.  The  consequence  is  that  the  large 
fortunes  of  the  Russian  nobles  are  diminishing  rapidly." 

"•  This  is  the  case  with  us,"  observed  Monsieur  B . 

"  My  father  had  a  good  estate  ;  we  were  a  very  large 
family,  sixteen  children  ;  every  daughter  takes,  by  law, 
a  fourteenth  share,  and  I  had  a  number  of  sisters  ;  so 
there  was  not  much  left  for  the  sons.  Of  course  the 
estate  was  sold.  My  eldest  brother  had  his  share, 
and  now  he  has  eight  daughters,  and  so  far  as  one 
can  judge  he  is  likely  to  have  eight  more," 


:/ 


140 


LAKGE  FAMILIES. 


NOBLES  AND  SERFS. 


141 


I 


He  said  all  this  with  a  comic  gravity,  and  finished 
it  with  a  groan  which  made  us  all  laugh. 

"  In  which  case  it  is  to  be  hoped  he  will  have  no 
sons,"  said  the  Countess.     "  Or  what  would  they  do?" 

''What  indeed!"  he  replied.  ''They  must  do  the 
new  thing — go  into  trade." 

"  Your  families  are  as  large  as  our  British  ones,  by 
your  account,"  said  I.  "  I  have  always  observed  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  Continent,  at  German  Baths,  and 
at  Paris  and  elsewhere,  that  whenever  I  met  with  a 
large  family  of  children,  if  they  were  not  English  they 
were  sure  to  be  Russians." 

"  It  is  quite  true,"  said  the  Count ;  "  twelve  and 
fourteen  children  are  a  common  number  with  us,  and 
you  may  imagine  how  this  cuts  up  and  destroys  a  pro- 
perty by  subdivision.  Our  landed  nobility  are  go- 
ing out  very  fast." 

"This,  in  fact,"  said  Mons.  B ,  "is  one  of  the 

causes  of  the  abolition  of  serfdom.  It  had  become  a 
common  thing  in  the  subdivision  of  land  for  the  son  of 
a  noble  to  be  the  owner  of  a  cottage  in  the  village 
and  an  acre  or  two  of  land  and  a  couple  of  serfs. 
Could  anything  be  more  absurd  for  a  noble  ?  Then 
he  was  so  poor  that  he  was  obliged  to  work  for  his 
living ;  he  could  not  afford  to  be  idle,  so  he  worked 


with  his  serfs  on  the  bit  of  land  ;  and  there  vou  mi^^ht 
see  the  noble  and  his  two  serfs  at  work  together,  all 
dressed  alike.     The  whole  thing  was  ridiculous." 

"  Or  the  ruined  noble  went  into  the  army  and  let 
out  his  two  or  three  serfs  to  somebody  else,''  said  the 
Count ;  "  the  state  of  things  was  utterly  rotten,  and 
all  sympathy  with  the  noble  on  the  part  of  the  people 
had  ceased." 

"Quite  time  it  was  all  changed,"  said  Mons.  B . 

"The  old  law  declared  a  noble  could  not  sell  his 
serfs  apart  from  the  land,  but  nobody  cared  about 
observing  this.  The  nobles  were  the  persons  to  enforce 
the  law,  if  broken,  for  they  were  the  persons  with 
power  in  their  hands  ;  and,  of  course,  they  did  not  en- 
force any  law  against  themselves.  They  did  as  they 
liked,  bought  and  sold  and  gambled  their  serfs,  just 
as  suited  them.  Who  could  punish  them  when  they 
had  all  the  power,  by  one  means  and  another,  and 
played  into  each  other's  hands ;  the  old  law  was  nil." 

As  my  two  companions  talked  it  seemed  as  if  they 
were  speaking  of  matters  in  the  South  American 
states  and  their  slavery  system,  with  nominal  laws 
for  the  protection  of  the  slaves,  and  practical  inde- 
pendence of  all  law  on  the  part  of  the  owners. 

"There  were  terrible  abuses,"  said  the  Count,  "and 


1  \ 


142 


OFFICERS  AND  SOLDIERS. 


FALSE  SITUATION  OF  THE  NOBLES. 


143 


11:^ 


I,  for  one,  am  glad  of  the  end  of  it,  though  it  does  tie 
one's  hands  a  little." 

I  said  I  had  heard,  when  at  St.  Petersburg,  of 
complaints  made  by  the  officers  of  the  army  of  the 
great  difficulty  now  with  the  soldiers  in  maintaining 
discipline,  and  that  they  said,  ''  The  officers  are  no- 
thing now,  and  the  men  everything." 

"  True,"  the  Count  replied,  "  it  is  the  case ;  we  can- 
not use  the  stick  now  as  we  did,  but  I  am  not  sorry 
for  tliis — it  was  a  coarse  and  brutal  system.  Our 
common  men  are  of  a  good  disposition  generally,  and 
if  we  treat  them  well  they  will  behave  well,  as  in  your 
country." 

I  said  I  had  heard  that  already  the  men  were  dif- 
ferent,  better  than  they  had  been  in  some  respects, 
showing  a  gayer  spirit  and  more  pride  in  doing  their 
duty,  more  cheerfulness  in  their  w^ork,  and  less  dog- 
gedness  and  stupidity. 

"  There  are  no  better  men  or  better  soldiers  than 
are  ours  in  the  world,"  said  the  Count,  with  all  the 
warmth  of  the  **  moustache  "  in  his  profession. 

''There  were  some  curious  things  came  out,"  ob- 
served Mons.  B ,  ''  when  the  serfs  were  freed.     It 

turned  out  that  many  of  the  men  employed  by  the 
nobles  over  their  estates,  men  among  their  own  serfs. 


were  very  clever  fellows,  and  that  these  men  had  be- 
come rich  by  saving  and  trading  under  the  rose, 
and  had  lent  large  sums  of  money  to  their  own  mas- 
ters— had,  in  fact,  heavy  mortgages  on  their  land  ; 
while  others  had  actually  bought  the  lands  in  other 
people's  names.  Now  they  are  the  possessors.  What 
an  impossible  state  of  things  to  continue  !  The  one 
was  the  master  in  law,  the  other  the  master  in  fact. 
Tliere  is  one  case  I  know  of  where  the  noble  was 
supposed  to  be  the  owner  of  three  mills,  manufactur- 
ing establishments,  on  his  estate ;  when  the  serfs  be- 
came free  it  appeared  that  all  the  three  mills  were 
the  properties  of  three  of  his  own  serfs  on  that  very 
estate  !" 

I  said  I  had  heard  a  curious  story  of  a  noble,  who 
had  complained  to  the  manager  of  his  estate  that  his 
serfs  did  not  increase  as  they  ought,  and  as  other  no- 
bles' serfs  did,  and  he  inquired  if  there  were  many 
marriages  among  his  own  people.  The  manager,  ac- 
knowledging that  there  were  fewer  than  he  could 
wish,  the  noble  appointed  a  day  when  he  would  be 
at  his  principal  village,  and  expected  all  his  serfs,  old 
and  young,  to  be  there  to  meet  him.  lie  came,  and 
then  ordered  all  the  young  unmarried  men  to  be  ar- 
ranged in  a  line  on  one  side,  and  all  the  girls  on  the 


*»J  ^#""-* 


i    4 

'  'I 


;f 


I 


' 


I   I 


144 


ABUSE  OF  rOWEU. 


Other,  outside  the  village ;  and  then,  having  walked 
down  the  line  and  satisfied  himself  which  were  old 
enough  for  matrimony,  he  ordered  them  all  to  be 
married  at  once,  two  and  two  ;  that  some  of  tlie  girls 
refusing,  he  liad  these  all  marked  down  in  a  book, 
with  an  order  against  them  that  they  were  never  to 
be  allowed  to  be  married  at  all.  Tlie  Countess  ex- 
claimed loudly  at  such  a  terrible  abuse  of  power,  but 

]\lQns.  B allowed  that  such  things  were  only  very 

extreme  cases,  adding — *'  It  is  these  shocking  abuses 
by  men  practically  irresponsible,  and  the  false  situa- 
tion in  which  people  were  placed  with  their  serfs, 
that  obliged  a  change.  Tlie  serfs  were,  in  fact,  slaves, 
liowever  people  miglit  wish  to  explain  it  away  by 
saying  there  were  laws  to  protect  the  serf.  Practi- 
cally, these  were  of  no  force  whatever.  Among 
some  of  the  nobles  there  was  a  kind  of  understanding 
that  if  a  serf  amassed  property  this  should  not  be 
touched  by  the  noble,  although  he  legally  had  full 
power  over  it — what  was  his  serfs  was  his ;  but 
there  was,  in  fact,  much  abuse  even  in  this.  The 
nobles  were  gamblers,  and  when  they  lost  large  sums 
at  play  at  Moscow  in  the  long  winters  they  got  mo- 
ney how  they  could,  by  fair  means  or  foul.  When 
their  estates  became  embarrassed,  which,  of  course. 


f 


ARRANGEMENT  OP  THE  HOUSE. 


145 


they  did  immensely,  the  rich  serfs  paid  large  sums, 
for  fear  of  worse." 

After  breakfast,  which,  by  the  way,  lasted  for  about 
two  hours  in  varied  conversation,  "  de  omnibus  rebus 
et  quibusdam  aliis,"  about  everything  and  something 
besides,  of  wliicli  tlie  above  is  but  a  short  summary, 
the  Count  projrosed  to  show  me  over  his  farm  ;  so  we 
went  out.     The  arrangement  of  the  house  was  tho- 
roughly Russian.     The  verandah  below  ran  all  along 
the  front,  as  usual,  and  from  this  you  entered  a  hall 
in  the  centre.     Rooms  opened  into  this  on  either 
hand,  and  a  handsome  fliglit  of  stairs  led  up  from  the 
centre  of  the  hall  to  the  upper  floor.    Here  again 
were  rooms  to  the  right  and  left  opening  on  the 
landing.     These  communicated  with  each  other,  and 
opened  at  the  extremities  on  the  large  balcony  above 
the  verandah.     This  latter  seemed  to  be  the  principal 
living-place  of  the  family,  as  the  rooms  above  were 
built  ratlier  back  from  those  below,  so  as  to  allow  of 
the  balcony  bcmg  much  deeper  than  the  verandah 
under  it.     The  house,  of  course,  was  only  of  one 
storey.     In  going  through  one  of  the  uj^per  rooms  to 
the  balcony  I  observed  that  the  walls  all  round  were 
covered  almost  from  floor  to  ceiling  wiili  portraits  of 
race-horses— English  horses.     Here  they  were,  from 


•  I 

Ml      I 


146 


NURSERY  V.  STABLE. 


the  celebrities  of  long-past  years  up  to  the  horses  of 
to-day.  Here  were  ''  Marsk,"  and  "  Flying  Childers," 
and  "Moses,"  and  "Old  Port,"  and  "Chateau  Mar- 
geaux,"  and  so  on  through  the  many  years  down  to 
"Plenipotentiary"  and  "  :\Limeluke,"  to  "Crucifix" 
and  "  West  Australian."  I  observed  this  to  ray  host, 
that  he  was  a  lover  of  horses. 

"  Ah  !  yes,"  he  said,  "  I  was  so  once,  and  so  I  am 
now,  but  T  have  done  with  that  kind  of  horse  now. 
T  ii^ed  to  keep  a  few  for  racing,  and  had  an  English 
u.iiaer  here  and  English  grooms  ;  but  now  I  have  a 
wife  and  children,  and  so  the  horses  are  gone,  and  T 
look  after  my  sheep  and  cows  instead*" 

How  exactly  this  resembled  the  course  of  things  in 
many  houses  in  England  !— wife  and  children  versus 
liox-ses — nursery  versus  stable.  As  we  walked  out  to 
the  stable-yard,  my  host  said — 

"  It  was  all  the  fault  of  those  English  grooms  that 
I  never  was  in  England.  I  went  up  from  here  to  St. 
Petersburg  one  summer  with  the  intention  of  going 
there  to  pay  a  visit  to  an  "F  /lish  gentleman,  and  just 
as  I  was  ready  to  start  came  a  letter  from  my  trainer 
here  to  say  that  he  had  a  quarrel  with  two  of  the 
grooms,  and  requested  me  to  come  down  to  set  things 
to  rights  or  they  would  leave.     So  I  was  obhged  to 


SERFDOM  AND  FREEDOM. 


147 


come  here,  and  thus  the  opportunity  of  a  journey  was 
gone  for  that  year ;  and  then  something  always  pre- 
vented it  afterwards.  Your  men  are,  I  think,  more 
quarrelsome  than  ours." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  I ;  "  training  is  everything  in 
horses  and  in  men.  Wait  a  bit.  When  your  people 
have  been  trained  a  little  to  liberty  they  will  show 
more  individuality  of  character,  and  then  will  come 
more  difficulty  of  managing  them." 

"That  is  very  possible,"  said  he;  "for  instance, 
there  is  my  coachman ;  I  brought  him  up  as  a  serf,  a 
boy  in  my  stable ;  if  he  did  not  drive  as  I  liked  I  just 
took  up  my  stick  and  gave  b'm  a  sharp  cut  over  his 
shoulder,  and  he  bore  it  and  said  nothing ;  but  now 
I  can't  do  that ;  I  must  be  civil,  and  tell  him  to  mind 
what  he's  at,  or  he  would  quarrel  with  me." 

So  we  i  ^hed  the  open  pasture  ground.  Here 
was  a  Hock  of  sheep.  They  were  of  two  very  distinct 
breeds;  some  of  them  of  a  thin-leggel  niv]  wor^^v 
shape,  and  uihers  of  a  fine  stout  build.  On  my  ob- 
serving the  latter,  the  Count  said, 

"Ah!  those  are  from  your  country — those  are 
South  D  vnis!" 

"South  1-  .vns!" 

n  wn^  qnite  true.     IT -re  were  the  thick  full  br  -  . 


^ 


—  UjJLjg-^ 


148 


CATTLE,  SHEEP,  AND  HORSES. 


STABLES  AND  OUTHOUSES. 


149 


the  short  black  legs,  the  black  faces— all  the  distinct- 
ive marks  of  my  old  friends  of  the  Hampshire  and 
Dorset  Downs.  The  Count,  true  to  his  British  likings, 
had  always  a  small  flock  of  these.  On  my  inquiring 
il  they  did  well  in  Russia,  he  said  they  were  very 
lull  h  aix  L  bore  the  climate  well.  It  maybe  added 
here  that  my  host  v...  in  the  habit  of  now  and  then 
sending  a  whole  carcase  up  to  M  Uusaux  at  the  hotel 
at  Moscow,  and  in  a  day  or  two  after  this  visit  one 
arrivrl  -^  the  hotel;  and  as  long  as  it  lastol  1  in- 
dulged in  some  portion  of  the  "  South  ii^wii"  every 
day,  a  most  satisfactory  daily  memento  of  the  old 
cuuntry. 

KLL:^sia  is  much  more  a  country  for  beef  than  for 
iiiuiton.  F  sheep  are  grown  there,  a  i1  the  Rus- 
s  1  1-  are  not  a  iiiut ton-eating  race.  They  liave  large 
herds  of  ca^^"'  .  ■  i*  T  only  rarely  saw  a  flock  of  sheep 
a!i^:w>iore.  T^--  ^^>unt  IkvT  a  <u\{\]^  Ina'*]  •  atives, 
nnl  all  oi  ih^'m  without  horns,  ani  '  i  ■  •  1  of  li:t  lag 
over  some  short  horiib  irom  Eu-kuid,  the  only  thing 
wi  .  -  cLuppcd  iiiiii  then  being  the  cattle-plague. 
Tiiji.  V  ir  MHue  young  horses  too,  colts  and  fillies. 
Mos:     ;  :  rhi  Frl  K  iglish  blood  in  them  cm      1  wltli 

r  >-  which,  he  said,  ma-l-    :\  1   1  nrdy, 

'iX-aniinnL      There   wn-   n<^  i^ark.  \u    ihc 


, 


T^'i  1  * 


English  sense  of  the  word,  but  fine  meadows  stretched 
away  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  on  which  the  hay 
was  made  and  in  cock  and  being  carried.  Some  of 
this  was  already  gathered  into  extensive  barns  which 
surrounded  the  courtyards,  fDdder  for  the  !  i  .^  iid 
cattle  during  the  long  Russian  winter.  T*  w  i-  i  n  j  I 
ably  sweet  and  good  hay.  In  ii  i-  ian  ^i^:  na  j  there 
are  no  green  crops,  no  clover,  no  grasses,  no  'urinv)s; 
and  their  usual  rotation  is — wheat,  oats,  bar  kwh;!, 
and  then  they  lay  up  the  land  for  a  year.  Thov  do 
not  grow  barley,  lUi  I  the  peasants  grow  rye ;  this  and 
buckwheat  are  the  main  dependence  of  the  |  a 
santry. 

In  the  stables  were  the  carriage  horses,   la  v*  i  • 
the  cross  of  gO(';    I'nglish  blood  in  their  1irad^   ail 


legs,  and  also  some  farm  horses— ^mall  ^fnjit 


es. 


1 


:  iuiii  ii.e 


stables  a  door  led  into  extendi 


vu 


\ 


houses,  \\.inii  aiid  substantial,  uiili  thick  walL  nuA 
strong  roofs.  These  were  the  winter  houses  <'i  liie 
sheep  ail  cattle  when  the  ground  \as  co\  ii  d  with 
snow  and  ice.  At  one  end  of  these  was  a  door  a  ni- 
municating  with  a  ftirther  spacious  on-"'  a'k!  a  r  a  1 
over,  but  on  one  sid'^^  nf  wli'rli  wa-  ^r-j}  n  lar^T.  ],m^ 
vacuaas  JH-iWiMai  tlio  wall  aa-i  roof :  tld'^  wa^  to  au'iiiu 
air.      I'hr  aaanai-   waa^o   driven    n'-a.    \U^'    aiat-r   i-n-r 


•. 


150 


THE  GARDENS. 


into  this  outer  and  half  covered  place  for  a  time  every 
day  for  air.  Beyond  these  were  immense  barns  for 
I  lie  store  of  hay,  of  which  some  of  them  were  already 

liairiihi. 

iii'dl-^  lUid  t<'  iiiirrv-i  iiiiii-i;.i  Hi  ail  iiialb:r-  liidl  r-ju- 
coriiri]  tlii'ir  oarr  aii'l  i;.  «iii]' >i'i.  In  ilif  xrifiou-  \'ar<ls, 
too.'tliere  wa-  plenty  of  ntlicr  lih- — iurlv.-\>,  p.  uiliry, 
i\Iu^c^vv  (lurk- :  wliilf  m  iht*  lai'ns  huildniL^--  lin-rcwas 
stoant  niacliHit-ry  a!  work,  an-l  iho  ir^qiit n  in^iin  ]ir,ur- 
iiiii  i'lu  in  li('a,i)>  111)0!!  ihf  i|.)m!\  Tiir  Liar<k'n-  wt'i'cro- 
markahlo.  Ii  ajipfaroi]  iha!  lla-  lafh-r  of  Um-  r,.!ini 
had  iia,d  a  pas>iuu  lur  irar<k -n.-,  an-l  laid  -ptaii  inia/J! 
iiiOiKH- on  tliL-ni.  On.-  Ion-  ioUv  >iiljqanlial  wall  rau 
tlirouiiii  ilie  contro  ofwliat  wo  -lit  aild  rail  ilio  kitclien- 
garden, a  walled  viiclo>iin\  and  \]w-  wall  wa^do^^d  ^»n 
both -ides,.  Aiiain-t  one --ido  won-  huilt  all  Uio  vari- 
ous cMiices  and  rnn^h  ^lied-  isf'tho  warden,  ^iieh  a-  tin' 
garth'^ner'^  dwolhim  li*H.i-e.  -n)\a'-.  toiMO.-u-e,  ,^t,  ; 
wink;  on  die  othor  sid,o  o|'  \\  wa-  iht-  winior  eardfii. 
a  gla>>  Xij:ji  lur  the  whole  cxieni  pro|fiii!ei  ni  a  luw 
wall  at  ten  or  iw(^jve  h'ot  from  ilit^  other  walk  In  \\\\< 
were  all  kind<  of  iVuit-  grrnvn— -trawborrie-,  <*urrant<, 
apricntx,  peachoQ,.  and  odier-.  Bt^vond  i!ii-  wa- the 
cherrr-crarden,  a  ^pace  nf  ground  endrelv  roeied  m  Mr 


; 


f 


THE  OLD  FAMILY  HOUSE. 


151 


the  winter  temporarily  with  fir  poles  and  straw,  and 
warmed  with  air  from  a  stove.  Adjoining  looj  gar- 
d-n-    were  the  shrubberies  and   plea^annees.     TL  r 

"■    Ai'aA^    \    ojO-:-    ;i:^d    iini^''   ti-eec   l^x-  tlir-  l'»a'd\:-   of 


1''- 


o  i     :  a  i\  ^ 


.  ad   i,;i  a  na'  ui^ai  \"aiiO\a  I  h*' 


kilx'-  f 


5  ■  r  r  , 


fciile,  a  -mail  ^iroain  a 


'uil      s 


!   1  (    -  S  (    •■ 


ariaj-s 


from    >ide   t 


o 


1  . 


\-  e 


tn^a  vano\"  n.nniriiiir 


iho  kdv>--,  and  laUnm    frran  one    mte  the   e'tlier.      Th 


e 


h  e\a  -1  and  lariio-l    i»t 
t*ait.    and    .>n   \\    wa 
p'rie-tiao"-^     -t«"»ia("| 

( '!'« 1  nauMK'   iare*'  i 
-h  m-  air  1  ineh   i  ^ 


,o-e  wa?  t  a    -s  ^me  acri/s  m  ex 


r-    a    sa<;i-nrt 


dMiat,      A    h'W   siiiule 


oil 


*ank-.    and     -onnr    extra- 


•■n  f  M'l  in  nird).  <  d^  ruLni(a.l 


!'  W'  I- 


X^'l    lar-   ironi   this 


1      ] 


ialiLr  pioeo  i_'i  walLi  \\a_:  eanio  uu  Wiuo  ht-ap-*'!  hr« 'kt/n 


I  nae!\,--j  ei  a oi;  h  a  ai  .ut ■  mm 


i  >'  aiio  iaret    tanldiiii:> 


no     r.nnpani'ai.    "•-noOi\aoon   o!    pr*. 


maio 


t  f 


a  '^    n  1  -    1 


t  'i  t 


at  her. 


..  I J 1 ,         -.00 
I  ,\'V\  V     d'  '''-^     no 

Til!-  ^va-  the  r*ld  ninn:\    h-ai^;-  In  wkirh  no'^  nolior  and 
nhMhta'  ii\a'd.      Ii  wa^  a  waiod*ai  inane, -^^  a^  ours  nene- 


ra!i\'  ai'o,  lanli 


'4   r*  -a  I   ^! »  a  ji  .   ;i  >.  \\a'-   i  .ii  \ 


i  a  -I-  -no  e  ajnOaOon-^-mo!  that  it    wa- 
no.  i  aO  Wi    tin-  atinnlrx^  wa' 


'    ■        Ml 


call  Oiaciv-  ^eaiio^ — aiiLl  a  eapioi!  jiou-e   ii  wa-,   a  ko'tro 
r<''* 'Hrr  rnndoriakh^    oiae*- :    hni    \v!a/n    ]n\'  father  died 


a!ai  Iho  ]n\ )!),  ru   w  a: 
i       i 


doaded.  0    wai-  a  qaeslii m   'widi 


im 


h(  add 


i  \ 


Ii     On-     !an     h^^ai-r 


analiti' 


152 


THE  count's  reminiscences. 


one,  the  stone  house  we  are  in  now.  Very  often  in 
this  country  we  have  a  second  house  near,  for  con- 
venience of  offices  and  stables,  and  so  on  ;  and  so  I 
chose  the  second  house,  and  pulled  down  the  big  one, 
and  this  is  the  ruin  of  it.'*" 

"  You  must  have  regretted  the  old  house  where  you 
grew  np,"  said  I. 

•  riiat  I  did,"  said  he,  as  he  pointed  to  the  ruins ; 
*'rare  jolly  days  we  have  had  there.  jUny  a  time 
Ja.^  I  been  in  that  lake  when  I  was  a  boy.  jI^ 
father  kept  all  this  up  in  capital  style;  and  those 
gardens — the  winter  garden  and  all — were  his  doing ; 
I'^i^  I  rant  keep  it  all  up  as  he  did— I  must  look 
after  the  farm,  the  corn  and  the  cattle,  and  what  will 
vnv.  \\  uen  we  were  boys,"  he  went  on  presently, 
*'  ill)  father  and  mother,  who  were  very  fond  of  hav- 
ing foreigners  here,  used  to  have  English  nnd  Ameri- 
cans here  for  months  together.  I  picked  u^>  a  good 
deal  of  my  English  in  this  way.  My  father  was  very 
f  nl  of  b  Ks  and  history,  and  the  conversation  of 
fnroigners.  T  nni  nfin- 1  T  rather  took  to  horses,  and 
went  into  the  nrniy." 

W  iiat  a  charming  frankness  and  simplicity  there  wn^ 
about  all  this.  How  could  one  help  feeling  n  wnrin 
sympathy  with  the   man  talking  in  this  resigned  but 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  EARLY  DINNER. 


153 


^ 


i 


I 


o 


cheerful  spirit  over  the  ruins  of  the  family  roof-tree, 
recalling  in  this  hearty  manner  the  happy  days  of  his 
youth,  and  yet  with  a  tone  of  sorrow  m  iii^  voice  as 
he  told  how  here  his  fathers  had  L  ^  a  aie  which 
the  laws  of  his  country  prevented  him  from  doing. 
Methought,  as  we  walked  along  the  path  which  11 
us  towards  his  present  house,  through  a  pretty  sh  :- 
bery  and  wood,  it  is  better,  however,  that  the  ■  i  ^  ^f 
one's  country  should  do  this — better  tiial  n  kin  1  i' 
hard  necessity  should  have  obliged  a  change  than 
that  one's  own  father  should  have  squandered  mu  lui- 
tune,  and  so  have  thrown  a  worse  pang  into  the  loss. 
As  we  reached  the  house  which  stood  at  the  nlge 
of  the  shrubbery  and  wood,  only  a  "  ■  Iway  sep;u  tt- 
ing  them,  we  found  the  Countess  superintending  a 
preparation  for  an  early  dinner  for  us  all  out  in  the 
wood  under  the  fhckerinf]^  shades  of  the  trees. 


\  1 


'^s  ao 


J^. 


host  entered  heartily  into  the  proposal,  iiic  boys 
were  in  ecstasies  at  being  employed  to  cany  luin^s 
across  from  the  house  into  the  wood.  The  ; . 
being  laid,  and  men  were  going  1  :  ] 
wards  with  baskets  of  knives,  forks,  plat  ,  !h  ' 
all  material  for  the  feast.  The  Countess  v;n-~ 
balcony  above,  superintending,  as  she  com 
from  thence  the  whole  position;  while  Mon^i  ui 


lid  for- 

!i-.  and 

*-i    t]).^ 

W^Ah'  !i-,. 

i    i ^ — —  — 

4 


154 


DINNER  IN  THE  WOOD. 


THE  COUNT  S  YOUNGEST  SON. 


155 


I'  ^  ^ 


the  friend,  was  seated  below  in  the  shaded  verandah, 
with  his  cigar,  thoroughly  enjoying  hmiself  in  that 
acme  of  all  contentment  to  a  rather  corpulent  middle- 
ag  1  man — looking  on  at  busy  people  engaged  in  pro- 
\i  nng  for  him  what  will  conduce  to  his  pleasure  and 
gratification.  In  due  tune  we  had  a  capital  dinner, 
raijicipally  oflai  4an  dishes,  of  course,  but  not  omit- 
ti^i  :r  some  cutlets  from  one  of  the  South-downs— for  the 
K'.  ai^hjiian,  Nuiliing  could  be  more  cheerful  than 
HH-  nij  r man;  imuer  in  the  woo<l~the  boys  of 
course  dinii  a  wiji  ib  Tn^  Countess  wn^  full  of  easy 
uji  iiajcted  con\ti^aUuii,  though  often  in  the  rather 
serious  tone  of  her  remarks  she  seemed  to  feel  the 
^^ --  '^  ^  i  ii  neighbours  in  the  countia,  although  she 
ha  1  a:  'a  i  lorniaa  lenied  the  fact.  The  Count  was 
aay  a  a"!  aonvivial,  with  all  a  soldier's  frankness  of 
ina:  aar  n^^  n"?!  the  polish   of  a  man  of  the  higher 

^^  ai  '}     a    liic   u'orld.     Jilunsieur  B was  at  all 

I aat^  1  a  l\  tiiiKi  lu  add  to  the  ]>n^singjest  with  some 
quuiiiL  rLiiiai'ii,  -r  lu  tlirow  m  a  luw  w^ords  of  useful 
iiikiniai.  a  a  ?  ,  ^  to  some  question  of  inquiry  from 
the  sii aa^  a       11.   f  w  were  not  the  least  happy 

of  the  ]ai|  la  Tount  ca  1  utly  nah  :  spoiled 
iJa'aia  partiniaii i\  the  seo  a  1  ^f  -*x  vears  oLl   a'   » 

\  \     was  always  saying  or 


i 


doing  something  comical,  or  wicked,  as  his  mother 
declared  with  a  frown  for  the  young  marauder  on 
forbidden  territory,  not  always  efiective.  A  1  looked 
at  the  dark  sparkling  eyes  of  the  little  man  situng 
opposite  to  me  at  dinner  and  perpetually  ai  war  with 
custom  and  order,  methought  here  was  some  of  the 
old  itti.Jv  bloud,  hot  and  reckless,  perhaps  fermenting 
in  his  young  veins,  and  not  likely  to  fertilize  tin  old 
I      .  a    its  advantage  when  he  would  come  into 

1*    -hare  of  the  fields  and  the  meadows  and  woods 


'\  r-,  •  s  !  ■ , ,  I 


!   lis. 


v.aia    ovv\x/\\\W  a    pi 


aa^i 


156 


H 


f 


i 


Return  to  Muscow-The  Count's  Tarantass  and  Throe  Mares-The 
Coachnian-Efrect  of  Freedom  on  the  I        an  Peasantry-Unsettled 

Stateof  the  Country-  A   x   bleman's  M  . A    noarance  of  the 

Country-  1 1  h -roads-Free  and  Easy  Bathing- A  Kussian  Inn- 
^  '^  ^^^  '    -     ^^^mestic  Arrangements— The  Great  IT         stove 

—  •  Uuiiu  w  l>ed"— Vodka— Curious  Illustration  of  1.  .  Aolice 
Law-Law  of  Trover-Piety  and  Pilfering-The  Difliculties  of 
Driving— Safe  on  the  Pave. 

rVUE  dinner  being  over,  the  Count's  tarantass  came 

to  the  door,  and  M   iisieur  J;  ^ —  and  I  mounting 

into  the  h    u' of  the  carriage,  and  the  Count  getting 

<n  iiu'hnx  hy  liis  coachman,  we  took  leave  of  the 
Couiiiess  and  ^frirted  for  Moscow— twenty-four  miles. 
1 1  v.a.  five  o^clock,  and  the  Count  declared  his  horses 
ai\  i;^   did   the   distance  in  two  honr^   and  a  halfl 

"     '         ^^^   '"""    ^^  '^^^^^   ^f  high  phaetuu  without 
springs,  ail  1  the  three  horses  were  harnesst  i  abreast. 

^  "^  "^"^"    "-^   ^-^    '        i  air  of  shafts,  and  the  two 

1a    kt  1   ,  n  to  the  two  ends  -f  die 

i  no  centro  lior^o  was  :i    -.  ^a-;,    :m,]  the 


"1  \    '■ 


I 


i 


RETURN  TO  MOSCOW. 


157 


two  others  were  a  black  and  a  dun — all  three  of 
them  mares,  the  middle  one  a  trotter. 

We  started  at  a  rattling  pace,  and  soon  our  road 
merged  into  a  mere  track  across  fields.  A  large  bell 
was  suspended  above  the  middle  horse  in  the  usual 
circular  hoop,  and  this  one  always  t'  ''  1  vrliatever 
pace  we  went,  while  the  other  two  cantered  \  collar 
of  small  bells  was  fastened  under  the  necks  of  the  Ini 
and  the  black.     This  is  considered  by  u  it 


Au:;^i.vlii     U5 


the  right  thing. 


As  we  went  along  the  Count  turned  roiml  iiii^ 
said, 

''  y\  these  are  half  English,  and  all  mares.  The 
Russian  people  have  a  prejudice  against  ninro 


H' 


gentleman  never  drives  one;  they  think  they  c  nmui; 
do  work,  but  I  know  better.  Besides  ihis,  they  .iic 
cheaper,  and  this  suits  me  too.  I  don i  laiv  aiMjui 
fashion,  but  these  three  mares  will  beat  most  1  rses 
anj^iere." 

We  went  along  at  a  tremendous  pace,  the  r    n;  i  kh  n 
never  once  breaking  from  her  trot,  thonj 


I  l]!^   otlir 


woro  Tiiit    out   to    n    frur    luind-iiiiU'^r).       I' 


1  i  < 


V 


was  the  forjner  groom 


now  iiiipruvu   'jii  uccaiiuii  Willi  a  ::;liCk.      IL 


UlilvU*-i    I'J 


hishor^    pvijotually. 


t  )i 


158 


THE  COACHMAN. 


A  FREE  PEASANTRY. 


159 


"  They  all  know  him,"  said  the  Count,  "you  see  by 
their  ears  that  they  each  know  which  he  is  talking 


1^1 


to." 

iij  had  no  whip,  according  to  the  custom  with  Tfus- 
sian  coachmen— 2>.,  no  visible  whip,  his  two  hands 
being  held  out  in  front  of  him  with  the  reins  twi5    a 
round  them,  and  these  held  tight,   their  bits  being 
]>■  un  large  bridoons.      Wienever  he  wa^  dissatisfied 
with  either  horse,  so  that  it  required  a  correction  be- 
yond talking,  he  raised  a  hand  sharply  and  l)rought 
the  rein  down  on  the  offending  horse's  quarter  with  a 
stinging  blow,   a  small,  heavy,  smooth  piece  of  metal 
being  work    ;      uinl  the  rein  exactly  at  the  appropri- 
ate place  for  the  blow.     Tae  horses  wore  no  blinkers, 
and  so  they  could  see  every  movement  of  the  driver, 
nn.l  thus  sometimes  the  raising  of  the  hand,  without 
the  threatened  blow,  was  enough  to  make  the  offender 
start  forward  as  if  he  had  felt  the  metal.       i  I   wever, 
though  there  was  no  visible  whip,  I  found  that  each 
•  coachman  carried  a  small  short  knotted  stick  under 
his  legs,   and  now  and  then,   on  great  occasions,  he 
V     -^  gather  all  his  reins  into  the  left   hand,  and 
stooping  for  the  stick  he  would  hit  the  offender  a  tre- 
mon  Inis  cut  on  the  hinder  part  of  the  leg  above  the 
hock.     It  is  a  small  but  a  savage  instalment  of  tor- 


ture,   and,    as   used,   much   more   severe   than   any 
whip. 

Seeing  some  men  cutting  corn,  I  asked  how  their 
peasants  now  behaved  in  these  parts. 

"  Very  badly,"  said  the  Count.  "  It  is  difficult  to 
get  them  to  work." 

I  said  I  had  heard  of  nobles  paying  so  heavily  for 
getting  it  cut  and  carried  that  there  was  no  profit, 
and  that  some  were  living  on  the  produce  of  their 
forests,  cutting  them  down  and  selling  them. 

"  Very  probable,"  said  Muu^,.  B  —  ''  Yow  that  the 
peasants  are  free  they  labour  as  little  as  they  can  ;  but 
some  parts  of  the  country  are  worse  than  others,  and 
some  villages  worse  than  others." 

I  said  I  had  heard  of  a  noble  making  a  bargain  with 
his  village  to  cut  his  com  at  so  much  a  head,  men  and 
women,  to  begin  on  the  morrow,  and  that  on  co  i^ 
two  days  after  to  see  how  the  job  was  going  on  1 
found  not  a  hand  at  work ;  on  remonstrating,  he  was 
told  they  had  found  they  could  not  do  the  juu  .d  the 
price,  and  demanded  more, — that  he  consented  to  this 
farther  demand,  and  that  the  new  bargain  was  made 
and  broken  just  as  the  former  one,  and  that  in  the  end 
he  only  had  his  corn  cut  for  more  than  double  the 
wages  at  first  agreed  on. 


!  ■  ;  f 


f !  f 


160 


UNSETTLED  STATE  OF  THE  COUNTRY. 


A  NOBLEMAN  S  MANSION. 


161 


'  I  1 


"  That  is  likely  enough  to  be  true,  for  there  are 
complaints  of  the  kind  everywhere,"  said  the  Count  : 
"  the  truth  is  that  at  present  things  are  all  without  any 
regularity;  no  one  knows  just  what  wages  ouglit  to 
be,  how  in  iHi  or  how  little,  and  so  these  people  get 


1  ] 

il  i  1 


they'can;   diid  if  you  agree  to  give  their  a^v^ 


'"<**v'     .i:'.\'.',L   Ikj'J    iiiLic     lUiii    L 


aii    j^et 


less  tli^'v  'Vt'i  if 


1  1   :  ,    !        f, 


(   '    '       V'.    ( 


Aii  ilii 


.-:^l 


f   i ,  1 1 , 


.] 


'•  Imn'Iii  wlui!   I    hear/'  -ai'l  tli.'  ('oiiiii,  •"  iliinc^^   nro 
ratluT  worse  llicre  than  with  u^/' 

We  |)a^6CMl  tlirou-ii  a  village  railicr  iiKjre  lu-at  than 
ii-ual. 

^'This  is  one  oTniy  villages,"  sai«l  the  Count  ;  '*l)Ul 
a  precious  set  of  rascals  thev  are.  Here  was  a  capital 
wood  I  had,  you  can  see  only  a  part  of  it  now.  I'liese 
fellows  used  t(^  steal  such  quantities  oi' it,  cut  it  down, 
and  carry  it  ofF  at  night,  that  I  was  losing  it  all  ])icce- 
meal,  so  I  sold  it  all  as  it  stood,  to  save  it." 

•'  Could  you  not  catcli  one  of  your  thieves,''  said  I, 
^^  and  punish  him  severely,  as  an  example  and  a  warn- 


o 


i  i'5 


''AH  that  w^ould   have  been  more  trouble  than   it 


\ 


was  worth,"  he  replied ;  *'  the  nearest  magistrate  lives 
twenty  worsts  off;  and  then  there  are  such  delays 
in  our  new  laws,  and  long  processes,  and  perhaps  not 
much  punishment  after  all  that  these  men  w^ould  care 
about,  and  in   the  meanwhile  mv  woc^  1     v* 


n,i  1,. 


been  stolen  all  the  same.     All 


r^.rir 


nCAl  .   :i!;e 


It;       ilii;* 


avo 


in  a!  I  r  ('"^     ,i]'0 


a    H-w    \a'a: 


)ro::uui  ;ui   i_)ie"  an  air-  are 


\\\*  ^nai i  Uo  iji.au-r  ;    on ;   al    j 
111  a  Ijad  \\'a\'  — law  ah«i  ii\l'\i^j\  . 

X*  ar  aiiMiJitr  xiiiaur  \va-  a  iariir  lii'U-e.  now  <hut 
up.  Tt  wa-  an  *'Xt<  n-i\a'  biiildiraj,  Aviili  a  hanir  hand- 
^onie  fi'oiit.  and  -taudinir  ])a(*k  frn]\\  tlie  roadwav  in 
^omc  prettv  gi'ouiids  with  slirul>] series  and  tall  trees. 
It  wa<  a<  u^ual  a  <»nc  storey  hou-e  of  wood,  on  a  low 
brick  foundation.  There  were  three  or  four  other 
smaller  l)uildim_rs  in  the  grounds  bv  the  shrubberies, 
and  a.  couple  of  large  imposing  pillars,  a  gateway^ 
marked  the  entrance  from  the  village  into  the  place. 
This  was  a  nobleman's  mansion  with  the  outbuildino^s 
for  his  various  people,  steward  and  secretary  and  so 
on.  Now  the  wliole  place  was  falling  to  ruin.  It 
appeared  that  the  owner  had  died,  and  then  came 
trouble  about  division  of  property  and  mortgages  } 
and  then  followed  the  liberation  of  the  serfs,  and  so 
the  family  mansion  was  abandoned.     Large  gaps  were 

M 


Wi. 


"■  m     m  ».:  jwi 


■""'ai'M'ii       m-fm-^ff"  ■  r  ' 


<( 


162 


rilGII-ROADS. 


'     V 


! 


\ 

I 

-• 

II 


\ 


appearing  in  the  roots  and  sides  of  tlie  various  l)iiild- 
ings,  all  paint  faded  and  windows  iraninrr  and  tlie 
two  pillars  of  the  gateway,  of  Italian  form,  unconnected 
with  anything  and  falling  to  ])iec(  s,  were  as  <diosts  of 
departed  grandeur— a  type  of  many  of  tlie  ruined  no- 
bilitv  of  Russia. 

The  country  we  passed  tlirough  was  a  \v aw  ground 
not  quite  flat,  not  to  lie  rall<V]  hilly.  There  was  l.ut 
litth'  wood,  and  tlie  land  was  wneralK'  uikLt  lil]a"0 
intermixed  with  pasture;  but  it  all  wore  tlic  lo<»k  of 
carelessly  cultivated  land,  poor  (Tops,  ill-d^'fined  divi- 
sions of  fields,  and  rugged,  marshv  irround  at  inter- 
vals.  Here  and  there  was  a  more  careful  manarre- 
ment  evidently,  bettiT  l)uiKlings,  of  course  i.f  wood, 
and  herds  of  cattle. 

After  about  ten  or  twelve  miles  of  ra])id  ^umvr 
along  these  country  tracks  we  came  to  a  hirdi-road— 
a  broad  handsome  highwav.  I  was  coi^rratulatinrr 
rayself  on  our  reacliing  tliis,  but  on  our  swinirin<M)ut 
on  to  it  from  the  field  I  found  our  pac(^  was  soon 
checked  by  large  dips  and  holes.  On  njv  reniarkin<'- 
this  to  the  friend,  lie  said,  "  Tliis  is  one  of  our  hi<Th- 
roads,  but  it  is  in  a  bad  state." 

''The  Government  does  not  take  much  care  of  it, 
apparently,"  said  I. 


DIFFIOl'LTIKS  OF  TUAVKLLINO. 


i«;:; 


'HJovernment !"  he  exchiimed,  ''the  Goverimient 
does  not  take  care  of  the  roads,  it  only  takes  care  of 
a  lew  of  the  great  high-roads,  and  all  the  others  are 
left  to  take  care  of  themselves;  and  as  it  is  nobodv's 
particular  business,  ]io])C)dy  does  it.  AVe  have  no 
roads  in  liussia." 

True  enougli,  here   were  oidy  tracks,  and  even  this 
large  highway  to  Jaroslav  and  Kostroma,  one  of  the 
great  trade   tliorougldares  of  the  f]mpire,  was  a  mere 
rough  track.     Sometimes  we  went  aloni^  at  the  rate  of 
twelve  or  iourteeii    miles   an   liour,  the  roan   nuire  in 
the  centre   never  breaking  her   trot,  and  the  big  bell 
over  her   liead   giving  out  its   fine  musical  note  with 
her  regular   stroke,   while  the  dun  and   the  black  on 
eltlier  side   rushed  alone  at  a  gallop ;  and  then  after 
half  a  mile  of  this  pace  the  driver,  by  a  w^ord  or  two, 
w^ould  clieck  them  all,  that  he  might  change  his  ground 
and  avoid  some  impossible  dip,  green  with  morass  of 
nmd  and  weeds,  or   steer  carefully  along  a  ledge  be- 
tween the  outer  field  and  a  pool  of  water ;  and  then 
having  passed  this,  he  would  spring  his  horses  again 
at  a  word  up  to  the   next  difiiculty.     Now   and  then 
he  could  see  no  hard  ground  all  across  the  sixty  feet 
from  side   to  side,   and   then  he  charged  the  morass 

M  2 


\ 


i  ,  \- 


i(;i 


fPxKk-am)-i:asv  ilvtiiincj. 


TKA-DKIXKIXC. 


\g: 


'I 


\ 


J) 


galhiiitl}-.  Duwu  \vt'  Went  itito  ii,  a!i<l  all  tliiv.* 
liur^es  j)limu-iim-  u'aiiu'h'  tlirniiL!!!  it  wi'  were  up  the 
other  blo])e  and  awav  aloiii:  the  track  witli  [i  little 
aJJitional  rush  iu  the  paci'  after  the  adventure,  the 
Count  looking  round  with  a  ph'a.^ed  smile  and  the 
Httle  driver  chuckling  to  his  horses  In  a[)pr()vaL  But 
at  times  even  this  l)ecanie  im[)ossil)le,  the  road  was  so 
full  of  holes  and  dee])  ruts  like  ditches,  and  so,  at 
times,  we  went  at  a  foot's  {)ace. 

We  i)assed  manv  villaLfes,  and  loni:  lines  oi'  telcas 
on  their  wav  from  the  countrv  to  the  capital,  laden 
with  timber  for  buildhig,  or  with  bricks,  or  apples,  or 
barrels  of  tallow,  or  tlie  products  of  the  cloth  and 
other  mills. 

Xear  one  villan:e  a  man  walked  out  of  the  back  of 
a  solitary  house  in  a  state  of  nature  across  a  strip  of 
grass  towards  a  narrow  river. 

''That  man,"  said  the  Count,  ''is  taking  his  bath. 
In  that  house  is  the  hot  bath,  and  now  he  is  on  his 
w\ay  to  a  plunge  into  the  cold  water,  and  then  he  will 
come  back  and  have  another  hot  bath.  Our  peasants 
are  verv  fond  of  this." 

What  a  free-and-easy  little  bathing  establishment 
bv  the  hi^h-road. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  and  a  lialf,  havin<'  done  six- 


teen  mih'S  in  spite  of  all  impedinu-nt^,  we  drove  up  to 
a  wnysi<l(»  inn.  Here  th(^  Count  ^^xid  he  often  st(^p])ed 
on  liis  wav  to  "Moscow  t(»  have  a  ^lass  of  vodka  and 
a  talk  with  the  landlord.  In  the  outer  room,  the  bar, 
a  ][\Viso  apartment,  was  a  long  dresser,  and  on  shelves 
c)!!  the  wall  behind  it  were  glasses,  bottles,  and  tea- 
cui)s  (1(1  liifjnitinn.  Here  were  the  landlord  and  land- 
lady, a  comely  pair,  ])ast  the  middle  age.  In  a  room 
be\'ond,  visible  thn^uuh  a  wide  doorwav,  were  a  nmn- 
l)er  of  small  round  tables,  and  sitting^  round  these  were 
peasants,  men  and  women,  in  little  sociable  parties, 
and  on  all  tlie  tal)lc\s  were  teapots,  tea-cups  and 
saiHH'rs,  small,  and  of  pretty  and  various  patterns.  All 
these  people  were  drinking  their  tea,  and  on  no  one 
table  were  there  bottles  or  glasses.  None  of  the 
young  Tiien  were  drinking  vodka  or  kvas,  nothing  but 
tea.  It  is  a  passion  among  these  people.  At  all 
hours  of  the  day,  in  tlie  caharefs  of  Moscow  as  in  those 
of  the  country,  if  you  look  in  on  passing,  you  will  see 
these  people,  big  working  men,  drivers  of  droschkies, 
womcm  and  children — there  they  are  drinking  tea,  tea 
venicnte  di<\  tea  deced'nte — ''  from  morn  till  dew^v  eve  !" 
In  a  French  cabaret  they  w^ould  all  be  tippling  red 
Avine ;  in  a  German  Gasthaus  all  soaking  beer.  If  you 
ask   the   Russians   thev  wdll   tell    you   that   the    onlv 


I 


]iU 


THH  (;KF,AT   HorSK-STOVK. 


I.  ( 


GONE  TO  BED. 


k; 


)  i 


i 


f. 


(IrinkN    [hv\   care   for  arc    vcdka    {hraiuh)    and    tea. 
Wine  an*]  beer  are  tut>  c(>l(l. 

The  Count  savini:  that  1  ouiiht  to  see  tlie  interii»rof 
the  liousCj   the    huulhidy   first   led   nie   and   ]\Iunsieur 

B into  the  back  premises.     AVe   went   across  tlie 

vard  into  the  ureat  barn.  This  was  tlie  summer  bed- 
room  of  tlie  lan<llord  and  his  wife,  in  one  corner  of  it 
hc'uvj:  a  lar^e  old-fashioned  f()ur-])oster.  This  was  an 
airy  apartment  certainly.  The  interior  of  the  house 
seemed  t(^  be  principally  arrange<l  with  reference  to 
the  great  liouse-stove.  This  was  a  huge  affair,  large 
and  broad  and  high,  occupying  the  central  p(jsition  iu 
the  wall  of  four  rooms  and  so  projectinu-  a  irreat  ando 
into  cacli.  Thus  it  warmed  four  rooms  at  once,  the 
mouth  of  it  being  in  the  kitchen.  An  iron  door 
closes  it.  This  is  alxnit  three  feet  {\\m\  the  crround, 
and  a  brick  platform  built  up  t(^  that  height  in  front 
of  it  resembles  a  French  hot-plate ;  on  this  the  cook- 
ing is  done.  If  it  is  wishe<l  to  use  the  fire  without  the 
big  stove  being  lieateil,  then  the  ii'on  door  is  closed. 
The  chitnney  rises  from  above  the  fireplace.  The 
stove  is  also  the  oven  and  is  easily  heated  from  tlu' 
fireplace.  This  big  stove  is  a  luxurious  piece  of  furni- 
ture in  the  bed-rooms.  The  broad  deep  anirle  offers 
a  tempting  ^leeping-place.  and  in  the  eo](l   weather,   if 


^, 


anyone  finds  his  bed  chilly,  he  places  a  mattress  upon 
the  stovc'-angle,  climbs  up,  and  has  a  warm  sleeping- 
])lace. 

As  Monsieur  B and  I  came  out  of  one   room  I 

observed  a  white  figure  upon  tlie  angle  of  the  big 
stove,  and  I  raised  the  candle  to  examme,  for  it  was 
ixettin^  dusk. 

*'  That  is  my  daughter,"  said  the  landlady — *'  she 
had  a  headache,  and  is  mjne  to  bed." 

The  said  young  person  had  in  her  simple  night- 
dress— for  that  was  her  only  coverim]^ — laid  herself 
upon  a  nuittress  on  the  stove,  and  w^as  ''gone  to  bed/' 
AVhat  a  thorouglily  uiartificial  arrangement  for  a  young 
pers<  m  !  ^ 

(loinir  back  t(j  the  bar  we  found  the  Count  and 
the  landlord  dee})  in  discussion  of  local  matters^  as 
also  vodka,  and  we  took  our  share  of  the  latter. 
A\)dka  is  by  no  means  bad  to  the  taste,  and  rather 
reminded  me  of  Schnapps  in  the  country  inns  round 
Dresden  on  partridge-shooting  mornings.  We  mount- 
ed into  the  tarantass  au^ain  for  Moscow. 

We  had  stayed  so  long  at  the  wayside  public  that 
It  was  getting  dark  as  we  started,  and  the  road  be- 
coming, if  anything,  worse  than  before  from  its  being 
more  used  by  traffic  nearer  to  the  capital,  and  more 


-^k 


i(;s 


ItrsSIAN   IM'LU'K  LAW 


criuors  st(_iuv. 


KiU 


l( 


I 


i 


cut    up,  wu  were    forced   to  tnivd  more  slowlv.      The 
large  bell  buspeuded  to  the  hoop  over  th"  roan  mare's 
withers  told  us  by  the   (piicker    e>r   slower  stroke  ex- 
actly wliat  we  were    doiim-    in    the    wav   of  pace  •    for 
now  It  would  ring  out  a  clear  sharj)    peal    f  )r  a  time 
a<  the   mare  lai<l  herself  out  for  a  couple  of  hundre(l 
yards,  and    then   it    stopped    suddenly  with   a  jerk  as 
she  found  herself  at   the  brink  of  a  dark,  deep  hole, 
round  which   she    skirted,    letting  the   dun    and    the 
black  make   their   way  as  thev  could  through  the  mo- 
rass  and  the  tarantass  to  take  a  sidelou"-   nluii'-o   into 
it.      The  Count   held  on  convulsivelv  to   his   box-seat 
on  these  occasions,  and  the  little  (buver   stuck   to  his 
place  with  the  balance  of  custom,  read v  for  anv  event 
like  a  sailor  with  his  sea  legs  on  board   shi])  in  a  cross 
Hni.      While  passing   a  large  j)iec(M.f  water  a  curious 
story  was  told  by  the  friend  in  exemi)lifieation   of  the 
ways   and    customs  of  Russia  and   police   law  in  the 
country.      I  had  mentioned  a  circumstance   related   to 
me   by  the   British  Consul    in    Moscow.     A  ladv  had 
fallen   down   in    the   street   as   he  was  passin^--  in  his 
carriage,  and  she  lay  on    the  pavement   unassisted  bv 
any  of  the  passers-by,  as  it    was  against  the   law  f  )r 
anyone   to  help  her  up  or  aid   her,   as  lie  mi^dit  l)e 
charged   by   the  police   with    attempting  to   rob  her. 


4 


f 

i 


The  Consul  stoj^ped  his  carriage,  got  out,  lifted  her 
up,  liad  her  put  into  his  carriage  by  liis  servant,  and 
took  her  to  her  home.     The  Count's  remark  was — 

''The  British  Consul  might  do  that  with  impunitv, 
but  no  Russian  would  have  ventured  to  do  it  for  fear 
of  the  penalty.  If  a  person  is  drowned  no  one  can 
venture  in  aid  in  restoring  life,  or  touch  the  body, 
until  the  police  are  present." 

Monsieur  B tlien  related  the  follow^ing: — 

"'  A  gentleman  was  with  a  party  of  friends  at  his 
estate  in  the  countrv,  and  one  dav,  while  thev  were 
at  dinner,  a  servant  came  in  to  say  that  one  of  his 
serfs  had  lallen  into  the  lake  in  front  of  the  windows, 
and  was  drowning.  There  was  a  rush  of  the  master 
and  his  friends  to  save  the  man,  and  tliey  succeeded 
after  much  troubh^  in  getting  him  out  on  the  bank ; 
but  once  he  was  tliere  they  could  do  no  more — they 
could  not  have  him  removed  to  the  house  till  the  po- 
lice should  arrive.  The  family  of  the  man  came  hur- 
rying from  the  village,  but  neither  w^ere  they  able  to 
take  liim  away  home  for  the  same  reason — the  police 
were  not  present.  Of  course  the  man  died.  The 
police  w^ere  sent  for,  but  the  nearest  station  w^as 
twelve  w^ersts  off,  and,  for  some  reason  or  other,  no 
one   came    though  repeatedly  sent    for  during  four 


T  • 


170 


mSIIOXESTY  OF  THE  l'(,)LIC£. 


QllS  CrSTODIKT  IPSOS  Cr.STnDKS '? 


171 


hi 


I     ! 


tlays.  During  all  this  time  the  IxkIv  lav  on  tlie  bank 
of  the  lake  within  sight  of  the  house,  and  no  one  dared 
to  touch  it/' 

The  ground-work  of  all  this  curious  law  was  that 
the  man  might  have  come  unfairly  bv  his  deatli  and 
some  one,  in  pretending  to  aid  in  removing  the  body, 
might  steal  something  from  it.  Wluit  a  suspiciuus 
people  ! 

On  my  relating  this  to  an  English  acquaintance  at 
Moscow  his  observation  was — 

"  The  police  !  wh)-,  the  ]x>\kv  themselves  would  be 
exactl}-  the  people  to  take  anything  they  could  find  ou 
tlie  b. >dy,  if  they  were  unobserved."  And  he  went ,  -n 
to  say  in  pro,>f  of  this :  "  One  dav  I  sent  mv  servant 
with  ten  roubles  to  the  market  to  buv  se.me  tliin-s  for 
me.  He  returned  presently  in  great  alarm  tr,  sa\-  that 
he  had  dropped  his  purse  with  the  roubles  in  it  in  the 
street.  I  sent  him  at  once  to  the  nearest  police  station. 
On  his  way  there,  and  near  the  station,  a  droschky 
driver  saw  him  searching  about,  and  hearing  he  had 
lost  his  purse  the  driver  said,  '  I  saw  a  policeman  of 
that  station,'  pointing  to  it,  '  pick  it  up.'  The  servant 
taxed  the  policeman  with  having  the  purse  ;  but  he  de- 
nied it ;  but  the  driver  coming  up  repeated  his  asser- 
tion—' I  saw  him   pick  it  up.'     The  policeman  bein 


i 


tlireatened  witli  exposure,  at  last  produced  the  purse, 
and  then  clainuMl  the  reward  of  trover, — one-tliird  of 
the  property  found.  The  driver  and  the  policeman 
quarreled  over  the  matter,  and  then  it  appeared  that 
botli  of  them  had  seen  the  servant  drop  the  purse,  and 
the  [)(>lic(^man  had  refused  to  go  shares  with  the  driver 
in  tlio  contents,  and  lience  his  denouncing  the  former. 
'This  is  not  a  case  of  trover  at  all/  said  m v  servant,  'but 
a  robbery,  for  you  saw  me  drop  the  purse/  However, 
the  policeman  took  liis  three  roubles  as  trover,  and 
returned  tlie  rest.  11'  the  policeman  had  but  consent- 
ed to  share  the  contents  witli  the  driver,  it  is  proba- 
ble,'' added  my  acquaintance,  "  that  the  latter  would 
have  trone  off  to  a  clmrch,  and  on  his  knees  have  thank- 
ed  the  Virgin  for  her  goodness  in  letting  my  servant 
drop  liis  purse  and  for  thus  sending  him  five  rou- 
bles." 

''  Quis  custodiet  ipsos  custodes?"  Who  shall  guard 
the  guardians? 

We  did  not  reach  the  barrier  of  Moscow  till  long 
after  dark,  the  road  was  so  bad.  On  arriving  at  this 
the  coachman  got  down  and  unhooked  the  big  bell 
from  the  hoop  over  the  roan  mare. 

"  We  are  not  allowed  to  enter  Moscow  with  that 
big  bell,  only  with  the  little  ones  round  the  horses' 


4^ 


1 


72 


I)AN«iKKOrS  ROADWAY 


7:^, 


necks,"  said  tlii'  rount — ^*an<»tli(T  p.  >li('o  law/' 
But  it  was  a  rnnarkahU^  tiling-  tliat  for  full  a  mile 
after  we  were  inside  tlie  barrier  tlie  roadway  wa.^ 
aetuallv  more  dangerous  than  it  lia<l  bee-n  out-ide.  It 
became  ])itc!i  dark,  there  Avere  no  Hirhts  exc(^])t  liere 
and  tliere  from  candles  in  an  occasional  cottage  win- 
dow, wliich  only  made  the  darkness  more  i)uzzling; 
and  every  now  and  then  we  met  men  and  telegas,  wdio 
warned  us  aiiainst  a'reat  holes  in  the  roadwav.  At  one 
>pot  we  had  to  wait  for  some  minutes  wliile  a  string  of 
some  tw^entv  teleiias  passed  bv  in  a  meandrriiiLi"  fashion 
iacross  the  roadwav  in  front  of  us,  because  there  was 
a  deei)  inilf  of  a  idace  extending  lialf  across  the  wav. 
I  sugG^ested  that  these  carelul  police  might  ])ut  up  a 
lUit,  or  a  board,  or  a  warnimr  of  some  sort  at  this 
spot,  to  prevent  hors(\s  and  carriag(\<  from  ^oiny  down 
mto  this  uulf  in  the  <lark. 

'^  We  are  not  on  the  jxn'r  yet,"  said  ^fcms.  B , 

''thev  take  care  of  nothiim"  bevond  the  /H/rJ,  and  no 
one  takes  care  of  the  roads  l)e\'ond  it." 

In  this  nuitter  of  roads  the  Russians  mav  still  Ix^ 
considered  to  be  a  young  people.  It  was  rather  a  relief 
to  feel  the  rattle  of  the  wheels  on  the  j^diu'^  bad  as 
that  is,  and  with  the  high  road  wdth  its  gulfs  and  mo- 
rasses behind  us. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

'rheTwerskiiia— TIr'  Palace  of  Count  Postopchin— The  Great  Radiating 
Stu'ct.s  of  Moscow — 'ilic  St.  Petersburg  (Jateway — The  Promenade 
— 'Vlw  ( 'arriage  I  )rivers — The  ''West  End''  of  Moscow — ACompanion 
at  my  (tl  frtsn,  Luncheon — Uussian  Children  of  the  Upper  Classes 
—-Life  of  Young  (;entlenien — The  IV'trofski  Palact^ — The  Main 
Kditice  and  Detached  Buildings — The  BafilcHl  Conqueror — An 
Ollicer  and  his  Wife — Military  Exercises — Russian  Soldiers  and 
Olhccrs— dlie  Moscow  Worhl  in  the  Petrofski  Park — Tea  under  the 
Elms. 

npiIE  Twerskaia  may  be  considered  the  principal 
-^  street  in  Moscow.  At  one  termination  of  it  is 
tlie  fine  arclie(l  natewav  called  the  St.  Petersbur<]^ 
Gate — the  principal  entrance  to  the  city  from  the  Twer 
and  St.  IV'tersburir  luL^h-road  ;  and  at  the  other  end  is 
the  broad  l^oulevard  in  front  of  the  famous  little  cha- 
pel of  th(^  Iberian  Mother  of  God  by  the  Kremlin 
Wall  and  the  Alexander  Gardens.  This  street  con- 
tains many  of  tlu^  lamest  shops,  some  of  the  finest 
buildings,  palaces  «>f  the  nobles,  as  well  as  the  princi- 
pal clubdiouses.  It  passes  through  one  of  the  chief 
squares,  in  which  is  the  residence  of  the  Governor  of 


I' 


174 


Till-:  TWKRSKAIA. 


THE  ST.   T^ETKRSnrRi;  GATE. 


17." 


^Inscuw.       The  pahict'   wliirh    i\mut    \l)-\<^\)c]iu\,  ih-^ 
patriotic  guvcrii..!'  at  lii-  tiinr  nftlit'  I'^-i-iich    inva-ir-.n, 

<jccii[)ic<l  1-  a  uiUi']]  -nia'hT  inini-l' >n  m-ar  flu-  ]^ilanka 


ma rlvt.'i  - 1 iiaci '.  aii<i  i^  injw  Iil  iiiL-  iju^-i^': 


ai  (n    a    \\"» 


»  maiiuai'':  iirrr.     < 


it. 


1 '  t ,  1 1 1  ill  t 


1  i '  i  ( '  t 


in 


,1  "IT 


r 


*  I    I  .:  >    '  M 


'   i''(*i^  a-  ii  liiLi'L'  W'-^i'c 


'  'i  ar:  r'les  of  lla  :a!  ware 
house — tlia'      alls  which 


U:\ 


I  H-^onrMl  tn  the  highest  resolves  of  the  patriot  for 
the  salvation  of  his  country  should  now  only  hear  cal- 
culations of  profits  and  the  prices  of  raw  material.  As 
I  looked  at  it  the  thought  arose — This  house  belongs 
to  the  history  of  Russia,  and  should  be  sacred. 

From  the  Kremlin  Wall  to  the  St.  Petersburg  Gate 
the  length  of  the  Twerskaia  is  about  three  miles.  At 
two-thirds  of  this  distance  one  of  the  great  Boulevards 
crosses  it,  and  from  this  point  its  whole  character 
changes,  as  is  much  the  case  in  other  parts  of  the  city. 
The  street  becomes  wider,  the  buildings  are  of  a  lower 
elevation,  the  houses  and  churches  partly  cease,  and 
the  Russian  cottages  appear.  But  what  is  remarkable 
is,  that  although  this  may  be  called  the  principal 
street,  leading  as  it  does  to  the  St.  Petersburg  road, 
to  the  race-course,  to  the  review-ground  for  the  troops, 
as  well  as  to  the  Hyde  Park  of  ^^I  scow,  and  to  the 
Petrofski  Palace  of  the  Emperor  at  the  edge  of  the 


/ 


Park,  \a't  in  >pite  iA^  all  i]n<  tlic  Twaa^kaia    Ironi  tlie 
b<julu\air«l  Uj  till'   ^'atc  is  tlir  in«'-t  coinmLaL  and  least 

<  xii  rr^ai!  tlh'i'itw      Tii  'itlha"''('  tlu'   Lrrcal 


pici  art-'pi 


ra>!ia:  iaa^  -lr''t;i-  IJaa-e    ai'r 


hmI    lii=ii-<-s    at    iiit^a'val: 


r,. 


It  I  ; 


f  I  I  i 


1  '  '  -^         '  !  -'» 


*  i   , 


■  T    ]a':i 


-iniii'ini'   ('ur 


a-_ 


O  I 


I  < 


-,"-  r 


1 


)n^a'iPi\ 


At.  J 


\  I '  ;  t  i 


aiar    and 


y)lon-i 


n  ^^ 


^  ovo 


V,, 


:)     MM! 


Li  I      111- 


Bnt  here  is  only  an  iiiiuensely  avi  ;•  roa  h  a 
famously  rough  jmve]  bordered  on  either  hand  by  small 
insignificant  shops  for  the  sale  of  common  country 
articles,  low  plain  houses  without  ornament  or  cha- 
racter. 

The  St.  Petersburg  gateway  is  a  handsome  and 
lofty  arched  gate  in  Italian  style,  and  is  in  a  degree 
imposing ;  but  it  is  only  of  brick  coated  with  plaster, 
and  coloured  dark  to  look  like  bronze;  and  its  position, 
supported  only  by  lines  of  low  small  mean  houses, 
seems  incongruous.  It  gives  one  the  idea  of  an  in- 
tention begun,  but  never  carried  out. 

Immediately  outside  the  gate,  however,  the  scene 
changes.  Here  the  intention  is  realized  in  a  degree. 
There  is  a  large  open  space  with  roadways  branching 
from  it.  From  the  centre  commences  a  noble  car- 
riage-drive— a  double  drive — and  a  promenade  with 
avenues  of  trees  between  them,  all  of  it  showing  care 


176 


THE  ''  WEST  END  "  OF  MOSCOW. 


UNDER  THE  LIMES. 


177 


and  taste  and  attention,  and  bespeaking  the  approach 
to  the  Imperial  Palace  and  the  Hyde  Park.  This  ex- 
tends for  a  mile  or  two. 

One   day  walking  in  this  direction   T  passed  the 
gate  and  came  out  on  the  Promenade.     It  was  a  hot 
day  in  August,  and  the  broad  level  walk,  shaded  with 
dwarf  limes,  and  having  seats  at  intervals,  was  most 
inviting.     It  was  all  kept  with  as  much  care  as  if  at 
a  German  Bath,  or  at  the  world-famous  "  Corner  "  of 
Rotten  Row.     All  along  on   either  side  ran  the  car- 
riage drives,  one  of  these  leading,  after  a  mile  or  so, 
out  on  to  the  review  ground,  a  wide,  grassy  plain,  the 
other  to  the  palace  and  the  park.     Beyond  these  on 
either  hand  were  numerous  villas  in  gardens.     This 
was  clearly  intended  to  be  the  West  End  of  Moscow. 
What  spoiled  it  was  the  common  and  ill-built  and  ill- 
tenanted  mile  of  street  between  the  Boulevard  and 
the  St.  Petersburg  Gate.     If  the  nobles  of  Moscow 
had  but  selected  this  as  their  quarter,  it  would  have 
made  all  the  arrangement  of  the   town  complete; 
but  they  did  not  do  this.     The  Moscow  nobles  had 
their  sunny  south  quarter  and   their  Sokolniki  diive 
Atld  park  before  the  days  of  Peter  and  his  city  in  the 
north,  and  the  Muscovites  had  no  leanin;]j  at  anv  time 
in  the  direction  of  St.  Petersburg. 


i 


Finding  a  shaded  bench,   I  sat  down  under   the 
limes.     There  was    nothing   particular  going  on    to 
bring  people  in  that  direction  more  than  usual,  but 
there  was  plenty  of  life  and  movement.     A  few  peo- 
ple were  on  the  Promenade,  scattered  along  it,  from 
the  villas,  and  passengers  from  the  town  and  country 
were  frequent.     Carriages  were    continually  coming 
out  from  the  great  gate,  some  taking  the  drive  to- 
wards the  review  ground,  and  some  on  the  other  side 
the  Promenade  to  the  Park.     There  was  a  military 
camp  formed  on  the  far  side  of  the  plain,  a  large 
force  under  canvas,  and  now  and  then  an  officer,  in 
his  shining  helmet  and  grey  overcoat,  sitting  erect  in 
his  smart  droschky,  dashed  out  of  the  gate,  and  went 
in  the  direction  of  the  camp  at  the  best  pace  of  his 
black  trotting  Arab-looking  horse,  his  fat  body  coach- 
man in  the  conventional  blue  dressing-gown  holding 
his  arms  straight  out  before  him    and  steering  the 
black  trotter  to  a  hair's  breadth  with  the  tightened 
rein  and  the  large  bridoon.     Then  a  more  ambitious 
officer,  seated  in  a  tarantass  drawn  by  a  pair  of  slash- 
ing greys,  trotters  too,  would  emerge  from  the  gate 
and  hurry  along  in  the  same  direction,  and,  of  course, 
the  coachman  of  the  two  greys  did  his  best  to  out- 
trot  the  single  black  over  the  plain.     The  peculiar 

N 


178 


RUSSIAN  DRIVERS. 


attitude  of  these  Russian  drivers  always  gives  me  the 
idea  of  their  being  engaged  in  a  race,  spurning  behind 
them  the  jndverem  Ohjmpicum.  The  charioteers  of 
Diomed  and  Ulysses  at  Troy  must  have  worked  their 
horses  over  the  yellow  sands  by  the  Simois  and  Sca- 
mander  by  the  same  methods  and  witli  similar  bits  as 
these  Russian  drivers,  tlie  only  diiference  being  that 
the  former  stood  instead  of  sittini^.  More  than  once 
a  young  gentleman  would  drive  himself — unusual 
sight — from  the  direction  of  the  plain  in  a  spider  car- 
riage with  one  horse,  a  smart  stepper,  with  silver- 
mounted  trappings,  the  youthful  whip  seated  on  his 
bare  plank  with  his  feet  in  stirrup-irons.  On  his 
fragile  vehicle  he  did  not  try  his  skill  against  the 
rushing  Greeks  over  the  plain,  but  confined  himself 
to  ornamental  ambling. 

As  I  sat  there  a  man  came  by  with  fruit,  gooseber- 
ries and  raspberries,  ripe  and  seducing  on  this  hot 
morning ;  they  were  just  fresh  from  the  country,  so  I 
bought  some.  Presently  a  poor  woman  came  up, 
very  tired  and  heated  from  her  evidently  long  walk 
in  that  burning  sun,  dusty,  too,  from  the  dried-up 
roads.  She  sat  down  on  the  bench  too,  and  the 
gooseberries  lying  on  it  between  us  I  invited  her  to 
share  them  with  me.     How  pretty  and  engaging  are 


RIPE  FRUIT  ON  A  SULTRY  DAY. 


179 


the  natural  manners  of  women — of  simple  countrj^wo- 
men !  This  woman  was  taken  by  surprise  by  my 
offer,  for  she  had  sat  down  at  the  far  end  of  the 
bench  with  a  rather  deprecating  air.  Now  she  thought 
my  offer  was  scarcely  a  real  one,  and  declined  it  with 
a  modest,  timid  mien,  i-ather  frightened.  She  was 
full  forty  years  of  age,  and  scarcely  good-looking,  for 
Russian  peasant  women  are  rarely  so,  as  I  had  a 
good  opportunity  of  judging  at  the  Foundhng  Hospi- 
tal with  its  more  than  four  hundred  nurses.  But 
ripe  fruit  on  a  sultry  day,  after  a  dusty  walk  and  in  a 
shady  place,  is  a  thing  not  to  be  declined  twice  when 
offered  with  the  manner  that  means — ^'  Come  now  ; 
they  will  refresh  you — there  are  enough  in  that  bag 
for  you  and  me — I  cannot  eat  them  all."  So  the  wo- 
man, after  making  many  pretty  half-objections,  con- 
sented, and  we  shared  the  gooseberries.  But  slie  re- 
quired to  be  continually  invited  to  continue  her  share 
of  tlie  luncheon,  and  each  tune  consented  with  the 
same  deprecating  manner,  and  she  mumbled  always 
something  beyond  my  comprehension,  but  which,  any- 
how, had  the  sound  and  air  of  meaning — ''  What,  an- 
other ! — how  kind  you  are  ! — well,  they  are  good 
after  my  walk."  All  this  time  there  came  snatches  of 
song  over  a  hedge   beyond  the  road   leading  to  the 

N  2 


180 


NURSE  AND  CHILDKEN. 


RUSSIAN  YOUTH  OF  THE  HIGHER  CLASSES. 


181 


park  behind  me.  Adjoining  one  of  the  viUas  was  a 
large  market-garden,  and  these  scraps  of  song  came 
from  garden-women  at  w^ork,  a  line  of  them  as  I  had 
seen  in  tlie  cucumber  gromids  by  the  Devitchi  convent 
near  the  Moskwa.  In  this  garden,  however,  there 
was  sometliing  besides  gourds ;  there  was  variety — 
carrots,  cabbages,  onions,  beetroot,  celery,  and  otlier 
plants,  as  I  ascertained  by  a  visit  after  my  luncheon  ; 
and  as  I  sat  there  the  pleasant  perfume  of  the  vegeta- 
bles came  on  the  air  across  the  road. 

Presently,  my  luncheon  companion  having  de- 
parted with  her  simple  courtesies  into  the  city,  a 
little  party  came  out  of  one  of  the  villas  across  the 
road,  consisting  of  a  nurse  and  three  children  and  a 
man-servant  in  livery.  The  man  carried  one  of  the 
children,  the  younger  boy,  in  liis  arms,  and  when  they 
reached  the  Promenade  the  servants  seated  themselves 
in  the  shade  on  a  l)ench  not  far  from  mine,  and  the 
three  children  anmsed  themselves.  The  boys  were 
both  in  white  linen  knickerbockers,  black  velvet 
jackets,  and  high  black  boots,  with  a  rim  of  red 
leather  round  the  top.  They  were  small,  slight,  pale 
things.  It  is  rather  remarkable  that  almost  all  the 
children  of  the  Russian  upper  class  are  ddicate  and 
fragile.     On  inquiry  I  was  told  that  they  are,  rks  a  rule, 


I 


brought  up  in  close  and  heated  apartments  during  the 
long  winters,  and  in  the  summers  they  have  no  games 
or  out-of-door  amusements  to  attract  them  into  the 
air  and  keep  them  there  in  healthful  exercise  ;  they 
are  not  taught  to  ride  ponies,  and  sporting  is  not  a 
habit  among  Russians,  and  thus  the  boys  grow  up  as 
house  1)1  ants,  ^veakly.  As  young  men  they  lead  an 
indoor,  indolent  life,  gambling  and  eating  forming 
much  of  their  occupation  ;  while  reading  French  and 
English  books,  and  dressing,  form  the  principal  part 
of  that  of  the  younger  women.  It  is  not  therefore 
difficult  to  understand  what  was  declared  to  me  one 
day  by  a  party  of  Russian  gentlemen  as  a  thing  to  be 
deplored,  that  anything  more  vicious  and  more 
thoroughly  profligate  than  the  young  Russians,  sons 
of  the  rich  and  noble  families,  it  would  be  impossible 
to  find  in  any  country  calling  itself  civilized. 

As  I  went  on  down  the  Promenade,  I  met  various 
other  little  parties  of  well-dressed  children,  w^ith  their 
attendants,  from  the  villas,  but  they  all  had  the  same 
characteristics — they  were  invariably  pale  and  slight 
things.  How  different  are  these,  methought,  from 
the  big-limbed  and  ruddy-cheeked  boys,  and  the  rosy, 
active,  and  tomboy  girls — ready  for  cricket  and  rid- 
ing to  hounds — of  merry  England  of  this  class.     As 


182 


THE  PETROFSKI  PALACE. 


ROOMS  OF  HISTORICAL  INTEREST. 


183 


T  went  on  the  great  plain  opened  out  on  my  left,  and 
stretched  away  for  miles,  the  Promenade  continumg 
as  its  boundary,  and  so  I  arrived  at  the  front  of  the 
Petrofski  Palace  on  my  right.     It  was  a  building  un- 
like any  I  had  ever  seen.     It  was  of  red  brick  and 
stone,  but  it  was  a  fanciful  edifice,   made  up  of  all 
kinds  of  architectural  conceits,  as  indeed  are  many  of 
the  public  buildings  of  Russia.     But  though  this  was 
almost  entirely  of  red  brick,  and  was  but  a  fancy,  it 
was  a  proof  of  how  very  ornamental  a  building  can  be 
made  out  of  this  common  material,  and  in  spite  of  a 
violation  of  all  rules  of  Art.     The  principal  edifice 
stood  away  back  from  the  road  and  the  Promenade, 
at  the  further  side  of  a  considerable  court  of  a  circular 
form,  perhaps  sixty  yards  from  the  avenue  of  dwarf 
limes.     This  court   was   inclosed   by   two   encircling 
lofty  walls,  thirty  feet  high,  and  on  them  were  built 
many  towers  of  all  kinds  of  quaint  shapes  and  sizes, 
iicre  was  a  Saxon  tower  of  circular  form,  its  bulk 
projecting  into  the  court ;  then  came  a  square  one ; 
next  to  this  one  with  an  Italian  Church  front,  such  as 
Bramante  might  have  modelled.     All  the  detail  was 
of  delicate  Italian  work,  but  in  red  brick.     The  win- 
dows of  these,  as  well  as  of  the  Palace  beyond,  were 
set  in  fine  stone  work.     Two  of  these,  of  rather  more 


»  k 


pretension,  stood  on  either  side  of  a  broad  entrance  to 
the  court,  and  formed  a  handsome  finish  to  the  sweep 
of  the  encircling  wall.     All  these  detached  buildings 
appeared  to  be  inhabited,  as  though  they  were  occu- 
pied by  officials  of  the  Palace.     The  main  edifice  was 
as  singular  as  any  of  the   adjuncts.     There   was    a 
double  fUght  of  steps  up  to  a  broad  landing,  with  a 
portico  above  supported  by  Egyptian  pillars.     From 
this  you  entered  a  fine  central  hall,  circular  and  very 
lofty ;  and  this  in  fact  formed  the  principal  interior. 
From  it  opened  various  apartments.     There  was  no- 
thing above  this  but  a  garret,  the  windows  being  in 
shape  like  our  common  garret  or  dormer  window  in 
the  roof,  on  a  large  scale.     However  it  carried  out  in 
one  respect  the  cottage  design   proper  to  Russia — it 
was  a  big  cottage,  with  a  raised  ground  floor,  and  a 
garret  above. 

There  was  one  interest  attached  to  these  rooms. 
It  was  in  them  that  Napoleon  had,  on  his  first  arrival 
at  Moscow,  awaited  the  coming  of  the  notables  of  the 
capital  to  tender  submission  to  the  Conqueror  and 
the  city  keys,  and  had  awaited  them  in  vain.  No 
notables  came  bending  to  him,  no  keys  arrived — no- 
thing but  the  news  that  no  person  of  importance  was 
in  tlie  town — it  was  deserted.     How  disappointing, 


184 


THE  BAFFLED  CONQUEROR. 


AN  OFFICER  AND  LADY. 


185 


and  liovv  irritating,  and  how  defiant !     And  it  was  to 
these  rooms  that  he  had  retreated  when  further  stay 
in  the  city  was  dangerous,  and  it  liad  become  a  neces- 
sity to  vacate  it.     Wliat  must  he  have  felt  when  he 
entered  tlieni  the  second  time,   his  grand  prize  too 
evidently  wrested  from  his  grasp  ?     Perhaps  in  these 
rooms  that  evil  genius  of  war  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  became  sensible  of  a  doubt  of  his  own  power  in 
dealing  witli  nations  and  sovereigns  as  pieces  on  a 
chess-board.     I  could  not  help  thinking  how  terrible 
a  blow  these  walls  must  have  witnessed— what  a  blow 
to  a  man  hitherto  living  in  a  proud  conviction  that 
wliat  he  willed  that  he  could  do.     It  was  on  that 
wide  plain  to  the  West,  in  the  front  of  these  rooms, 
that  Napoleon,  when  he  decided  at  last,  every  scheme 
to  remain  frustrated,  to  start  for  France  once  more, 
must  have   begun   that   awful   retreat.     Sacked  and 
ruined  Moscow  was  on  his  left,  only  the  open  plain 
between  him  and  his  smouldering  victim,  and  in  his 
front,  due  west,  was  the  only  road  of  safety  from  utter 
destruction,    and   this    by   the   devastated   fields   of 
■>■•  azma  and  Smolensk.     I  could  not  help  ima<:rinina 
the  Conqueror,  the  proud  and  gratified   man,   as  he 
rode  into  that  gateway  on  his  arrival,— and  the  same 
man  a.s  he  rode  out  of  it  for  the  last  time,  angry  and 


baffled,  every  triumph  tarnished,  every  effort  defeated, 
every  boast  turned  into  emptiness,  his  genius  at  fault. 

While  sitting  on  the  low  rail  of  the  Promenade  I 
saw  an  officer  and  a  lady  come  out  from  one  of  the 
quaint  towers  into  the  court,  and  so  through  the  en- 
trance gate-way  out  towards  the  plain.  The  officer  was 
in  uniform,  the  lady  in  a  pretty  morning  dress,  her 
head  without  any  hat  or  bonnet.  As  they  passed  me 
they  were  talking  French,  and  were  arranging  for 
their  dinner  in  the  evening.  There  was  to  be  an 
inspection  or  review  of  troops  on  the  plain,  and  he 
was  going  out  to  this.  The  important  domestic  matter 
settled,  the  lady  tripped  back  again  into  the  court, 
and  into  her  pretty  tower.  By  their  manner  to  each 
other,  and  their  happy  familiarity  of  conversation, 
they  were  man  and  wife,  both  tall  and  young,  and  the 
officer,  it  must  be  said,  the  better-looking  of  the  two. 
She  was  very  fair,  Avith  a  German  cast  of  face,  and 
the  officer  was  a  Russ,  with  the  dark  blood  of  the 
East  in  his  veins. 

And  now  T  observed  that  officers  were  walking  or 
riding  up  from  various  directions  over  the  plain  to  a 
common  centre,  nearly  in  front  of  the  Petrofski 
Palace.  Far  away  to  the  west  the  plain  stretched  for 
miles,  an  unbroken  level,  till  it  dipped,  and  the  ground 


186      MARCH  OF  TROOPS  TO  THE  PARADE  GROUND. 

rose  beyond  in  low  lulls.     In  the  distance  I  could  just 
make  out  the  tops  of  the  tents  of  the  troops,  a  long 
array.     Watching  these,  as  I  sat,  I  at  last  discovered  a 
dark  low  extending  line  on  the  ground  between  me 
and  the  tents,  and  that  this  was  slowly  approaching, 
moving  across  from  the  right  to  the  left.     When  it 
came  within  about  a  mile  or  so  I  saw  an  occasional 
flash  of  light  from  its  front.     Bayonets,  methought,— 
here  come  the  troops.     And  now,  as  this  dark  low 
line  crept  gradually  more  into  sight,   another  similar 
dark  body  appeared  beyond  it,  and  then  another,  and 
then   another — more  and   more  continually.     It  ap- 
peared as  if  each  regiment  as  it  formed  by  the  tents 
moved  off,  each  advancing  and  taking  the  same  direc- 
tion, from  the  right  to  the  left.     So  they  came  on, 
each  with  that  peculiar  swing  and  flow  of  motion  of  a 
large  body  of  men  on  the  march.     From  some  of  tlie 
regiments  there  flashed  out  the  occasional  sparkle  of 
steel  in  the  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun,  and  some  swuno- 
along   a   dull   hea\7  mass  without  any  flash  at  all. 
Some  carried  their  bayonets  and  firelocks,   and  some 
were  without  arms.     The  body  of  oflicers  remained 
stationary  about  half  a  mile  off"  out  on  the  plain,  and 
the  regiments  marched  in  turn  past  them,  and  took  up 
their  ground  all  along  the  line  of  the  road  and  the 


MILITARY  EXERCISES. 


187 


Promenade,  a  long  line  extending  from  nearly  oppo- 
site the  Palace  in  the  direction  of  Moscow.  I  heard 
afterwards  that  there  were  twenty  thousand  men  on 
the  ground.  All  those  regiments  that  had  marched 
up  with  their  muskets  were  massed  in  squares  on  the 
end  of  the  line  towards  the  town,  and  those  without 
arms  were  similarly  drawn  up  at  my  end,  towards  the 
Palace.  After  the  body  of  officers,  all  on  foot,  had 
walked  down  the  line  from  end  to  end,  they  took  up 
a  position  in  front  of  one  of  the  unarmed  regiments, 
and  then  commenced  the  exercise.  Each  regiment 
was  made  to  advance  from  the  line  about  a  hundred 
yards  to  the  front,  towards  the  officers.  At  the 
word  of  command,  the  three  or  four  front  ranks 
advanced  at  a  quick  step,  breaking  at  another  word 
into  a  run,  and  going  on  close  up  to  the  officers, 
when  they  divided  to  the  right  and  left,  and  dashed 
along  the  front.  Then,  turning  at  the  angle,  they  held 
on  at  the  same  pace  till  they  gained  the  rear  of  their 
regiment,  Avhen  they  turned  behind  it,  and  formed 
up  again  in  their  places ;  the  next  ranks  doing  the 
same,  till  the  whole  regiment  was  exercised.  When 
this  was  done,  the  body  of  officers  moved  on  to  the 
front  of  the  next  regiment,  and  the  same  performance 
was  repeated.     Of  course  there  were  some  checks — 


188 


RUSSIAN  SOLDIEIIS. 


some  of  the  files  going  througli  this  exercise  badlv, 
and  having  to  do  it  over  again.  This  appeared  to  be 
the  object  of  the  inspection — that  a  superior  officer, 
who  was  very  busy  all  the  while  talking  and  unik\n<r 
remarks  with  a  great  deal  of  animation,  in  the  front 
of  the  body  of  officers,  should  witness  a  new  move- 
ment. Altogether  he  appeared  to  be  very  much 
pleased,  and  to  approve  of  Avhat  he  saw;  and  one  regi- 
ment being  apparently  better  exercised  in  it  than  the 
others,  he  had  the  movement  repeated,  and  then  gave 
it  unqualified  praise. 

I  could  not  help  thinking  that  this  new  exercise 
was  a  leaf  out  of  the  Zouave  and  the  Chasseur 
de  Vincennes  book  at  Paris,  to  be  put  into  the 
Russian  book  for  future  use.  After  it  was  over  1 
walked  out  on  the  plain  and  among  the  men  to  look 
at  them  closely.  They  were  all  dressed  in  short  dark 
green  tunics,  white  linen  or  canvas  trousers,  and  the 
usual  strong  Russian  boots.  Now  these  trousers  were 
tucked  into  the  top  of  the  boots.  They  were  all  large 
men,  and  evidently  a  picked  body,  very  even  in  point 
of  height,  broad-shouldered,  large-limbed,  and  power- 
ful.    I   never   saw  a  finer  body.     Their  stride    and 

freedom  of  action,  too,  when  running,   struck  me 

once,  in  my  own  opinion,  and  in  younger  days,  a  pro- 


THE  PARK. 


189 


fessor  in  the  art — as  light,  free,  muscular,  and  in  ex- 
cellent mechanical  form.  The  Russians  are  declared, 
by  those  who  know  them  well,  to  possess  a  very  imita- 
tive genius,  and  this  new  exercise  seemed  to  be  a 
proof  of  it.  The  officers  I  did  not  think  at  all  equal 
in  personal  appearance,  either  in  frame  or  muscle,  to 
the  men.  How  should  the  small  delicate  pale  boys  I 
saw  on  the  Promenade,  and  in  carriages  everywhere — 
hot-house  plants — grow  up  into  athletes?  How 
should  the  do-nothings  be  as  the  hardy  men  of  the 
villages,  labouring  in  the  fields  from  boyhood,  and 
defying  all  weather  ?  I  could  not  help  in  my  mind 
comparing  tliem  with  our  own  officers — men  from  the 
training  of  football  and  cricket — of  the  oar  and  the 
gun — of  the  road  and  the  hunting-field — of  the  rod  by 
the  meadow  stream,  and  the  glacier  on  the  mountain 
top — athletes,  and  sons  of  athletes. 

The  officer  w^ent  back  to  his  fair-haired  wife  in  the 
Palace  to  dinner ;  and  I  went  round  behind  it  into 
the  Park.  Here  I  found  the  Moscow  world,  drivinsr, 
and  walking,  and  drinking  tea.  As  the  principal 
world  was  out  of  town,  it  being  summer  time,  there 
were  few  carriages  of  any  mark  now  to  be  seen. 
Here  and  there  a  very  gorgeous  turn-out  passed  by,  a 
lady  and  her  children  in  it,  pale  little  people,  the  boys 


n-j 


190 


THE  SMALLER  GENTRY  OF  MOSCOW. 


TEA  FROM  NIJNI. 


191 


in  red  velvet  tunics,  the  girls  in  white,  of  course. 
There  were  a  few  spider  carriages,  each  with  its  well- 
bred  Arab-looking  animal;  but  the  greater  num- 
ber were  in  drosclikies. 

However,    the  I'etrofski  Park  has  its  merits.     It 
consists  principally  of  a  number  of  \dllas,  gardens,  and 
winding  roads  among  these,  public  gardens  and  shaded 
ways.     The  latter  of  these  I  enjoyed  the  most.     Just 
at  the  rear  of  the  Palace  were  some  fine  elm-trees,  by 
the  side  of  the  public  drive.     Among  tliese,   and  in 
their  shade,    were   some   quiet   bosquets  and  busliy 
pleasaunces  ;  and  here  it  was  the  habit  of  the  smaller 
gentry  of  Moscow,  with  their  wives  and  cliildren,  the 
well-to-do  easy  classes,  to  come  and  sit  in  tlie  sliadow 
of  the  big  trees,  and  drink  the  unfailing  tea,  and  see 
the  world  go  by.     So   here    i  iound   a   number   of 
tables  spread  with  clean  white  linen  cloths,  and  on 
them  the  burnished  samovar,   the  Russian  urn,   and 
pretty  tea-service  ol  ji  scow  porcelain,  some  in  blue, 
others  in  yellow,  in  green,  in  pink,  in  harlequin  pat- 
tern, and  in  everv  kind  of  fancy  shape.      \  \   w  tempt- 
ing it  all  looked :      I '  i  rties  of  people  were  sitting  round 
-^•me  of  these,   while  children  ran  races  among  the 
bosquets,  and  enjoyed  themselves  generally,     ^^^-ler 
I  1  rties  were  louiigmg  idly  in  the  shade,   and  looking 


on  at  the  passing  carriages.  Of  course  I  soon  found 
myself  at  an  unoccupied  table,  a  diminutive  table, 
laid  with  diminutive  tea-cups  in  purple  and  gold.  In  a 
moment  a  woman  appeared  from  somewhere  bearing 
a  steaming  samovar,  the  charcoal  all  alight  in  its  in- 
terior. Slie  knew  instinctively  that  I  was  a  foreigner, 
and  asked  if  I  would  have  cream.  ''  Yes,  I  would 
liave  cream."  She  disappeared  round  a  bush,  and  in 
a  minute  or  two  slie  returned  laden  with  a  huge  jar 
of  cream — two  or  three  pints,  at  least — of  the  richest 
and  purest  cream.  Considerate  creature !  I  could 
have  embraced  her,  as  she  did  the  jar,  but  for  the 
I)ublicity  of  the  situation.  How  I  revelled  in  the  tea 
from  Nijni  and  the  cream  from  the  Hebe  of  the 
bosquet !  .  After  a  hot  day,  and  some  hours  of  walk- 
ing, what  could  be  more  grateful  than  to  sit  thus  in 
tlie  shade  of  those  noble  elms,  as  the  sun  was  sinking 
over  that  great  military  plain,  and  thus  enjoy  "  Hyde 
Park  "  in  a  novel  way  ?  The  only  thing  wanting  to 
me  was  a  companion ;  and  I  do  believe  if  the  woman 
of  the  morning  on  the  Promenade — she  who  had 
shared  my  repast  of  gooseberries — had  but  come  by 
at  that  moment  on  her  return  from  the  city  into  the 
country,  I  should  have  invited  her  to  tea.  How 
strong  is  the  demand  in  our  nature  for  companionship ! 


« 


192 


ANIMATED  SCENE. 


In  our  extremity  it  is  now  a  mouse,  and  now  a  flower, 
and  now  a  peasant  woman  of  Muscovy.  However 
she  did  not  come  ;  and  so  I  contented  myself  witli 
the  moving  scene  of  carriages  and  horses,  tlie  voices 
of  children  at  play  among  the  trees,  and  perfumed 
tea  from  Nijni  and  abounding  cream,  till  dusk— when 
I  strolled  back  to  Moscow. 


A 


\ 


I 


193 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Paving  of  Moscow— Trial  of  Wood  and  of  Stone  Flags— Ornamental 
Villas— Houses  erected  by  Government— Road-making  in  Russia— 
The  Agricultural  College— The  Officer  appointed  to  conduct  me 
over  the  Establislimen1>— The  Cow  Stables— Dutch  and  Swr^?  Cattle 
—Steam  Engines  and  Machinery— Farm  IT  i-ses— The  Farm- 
Museum,  Library,  and  Lecture  Rooms — How  thv  Pi  ]  'tv  ^  - 
acquired  by  Gk>vernment — An  Apothecary  who  made  a  good  job 
of  it— Russian  Employes — Church  of  the  College—  \  Kussian  Re- 
freshment—Restaurant on  the  Kitai  Boulevard— Change  m  the 
Education  of  Yoir      ^"obles. 


11  !  I  r' 

I     I  1  it  ' 

1     i 


]  is  something  more  to  be  sai<l  :]hn^it  the 
Verskaia.     I  had  h-ird  mention  of  a  model 
farm  of  the  Emperor  somuwhere  in  the  noinlii    in 
hood     1  "^Loscow  ;  aud  one  day  i   named   iiii=   to  the 

British  Consul,  Mr.  R .      He  at  once  said,       If 

you  would  like  to  see  the  model  farm  I  can  take  you 
there — the  governor  of  it  is  one  of  my  fi*  ■  1  "  ^  -^ 
course  I  closed  with  this  proposal. 

A'<  ^ve  drove  along  the   TwHcnin.  1     b^prved  lu  niv 
companion  what   a  singularly 


i  i  i  '  I  i  tl  V   Cv  i 


i  L       %'\  ti^ 


o 


194 


THE  PAVING  OF  MOSCOW. 


ORNAMENTAL  VILLAS. 


195 


generally,  and  this,  its  principal  street,  in  particular, 
adding, 

"  Is  it  the  case  with  the  inside  of  the  town  as  with 
the  outside,  that  it  is  nobody's  business  to  keep  the 
pavement  in  good  condition  ?" 

**  On  the  contrary,"  said  Mr.  R ;  *'  as  you  ob- 
serve, the  pavement  of  Moscow  is  infamous — enough 
to  ruin  all  horses  and  carriages ;  but  you  have  no  idea 
what  trouble  we  have  about  it.  For  instance,  some 
few  years  since  our  authorities  were  advised  to  try 
wood.  You  in  London  were  trying  wood  pavement, 
so  we  tried  it  in  a  few  streets  to  test  it.  But  in  the 
first  thaw  after  the  winter  so  many  horses  fell  down 
on  the  slippery  wood  up  and  down  our  hills,  and  so 
many  broke  their  legs,  that  we  were  obliged  to  take 
it  all  up  again.  Then  there  came  a  German,  and  he 
proposed  to  pave  the  town  with  big  flags  as  at  Flo- 
rence, and  we  were  to  have  our  streets  like  a  bowl- 
ing-green. Accordingly  this  was  done  in  a  street  or 
two,  as  with  the  wood  ;  but  wood  is  cheap  and  stone 
is  expensive  n^  we  do  not  get  stone  easily  here,  and 
the  big  flags  were  costly.  At  first  it  w\)<  admirable, 
and  everybody  wu^  pleased.  At  last  we  were  to  have 
a  delightful  2;a2;6' for  our  trotters,  and  tht  u  iiuau  was 
pronounced  to  be  a  blessed  man-  -during  the  summer. 


"1 


1 


But  the  winter  came.  It  is  the  frost  and  snow  that 
ruin  our  streets.  After  the  winter  of  course  the  thaw 
arrived,  and  then  the  streets  all  burst  up  as  usual,  and 
the  big  flags  were  so  terrible,  their  points  standing  up 
like  ian-(red  rocks,  and  such  holes  between  them,  that 
the  road  was  impassable  both  for  horses  and  wheels ; 
and  so  there  was  the  end  of  the  bowling-green,  and 
we  returned  to  our  own  wretched  pavement,  i  v^u 
see  the  street  always  breaks  up  after  the  winter  ;  but 
we  knock  these  smaller  stones  down  again  as  well  as 
we  can  and  make  the  road  passable,  and  that  is  all 

that  can  be  done." 

So  we  trotted  on  over  the  jagged  Tversknin  mvl 
through  the  St.  Petersburg  gate  to  the  park  at  the 
back  of  the  Petrofski  Palace.  The  model  farm  lay 
two  or  three  miles  beyond  this,  and  the  whole  road 
was  through  pretty  woodland  scenery  on  level 
ground.  As  we  went  on  we  passed  from  time  to  time 
ornamental  villas  standing  in  enclosed  gardens  full  of 
flowers  and  shrubs.  The  Consul  pointed  them  out  as 
we  passed. 

''  There  lives  Mr.  A ,  a  wealthy  merchant  of 

Moscow  ;  and  that  is  the  villa  of  Mr.  B ,  a  great 

manufacturer  ;  this  is  the  house  of  the   Prussian  Con- 
sul ;  and  that  is  the  villa  of  Prince  G ." 

o2 


1A 


196 


A  GOVERNMENT   PROJECT. 


AGRICULTURAL  COLLEGE. 


197 


All  these  were  pretty  houses  built  on  the  Russiaa 
plan — a  raised  ground-floor  with  verandah  and  a  gar- 
ret above—  a  style  of  building  thoroughly  suitable  to 
a  summer  residence.     It  is  a  house  and  cottage  com- 
bined, and  the  verandah  being  often  a  broad  projec- 
tion from  the  building,  the  family  live  principally  on 
it,  commandmg  as  it  often  does  a  view  over  the  in- 
closing fence  to  the  country  beyond,  as  well  as  an 
easy  descent  into  the  garden  by  the  flight  of  steps. 
The  house  of  the  Prussian  Consul  was  the  prr^ttiest  of 
them  all,  its  front  covered  with  creepers  and  roses. 
M   tiy  of  these  villas  were  rented  only  for  the  summer 
months  by  Moscow  residents. 

Leaving   these  we  passed  some  pine   woods,  and 
here  at  intervals,  in  the  edge  of  the  woodland,  were 
many  small  separate  houses  in  various  stages  of  erec- 
tion,    jh    companion  said  that  all  this  was  ground 
belonging  to  the  U.  vernment,  and  that  these  houses 
in  course  of  erection,  and  others  completed,  were  a 
ir  jectofthe  <";     ernment.     In  some   cases  the  au- 
thorities had  built  the  house  and  let  it  at  a  low  rent ; 
while  in  other  cases  they  let  the  plot  of  groun  1   a:    i 
siTinll   groun  1  rent  on  a  long  lease,  thirty  or   forty 
roiiMo'^    n  vrnv,  the  lessee  building  his  own  house. 
\  <ii  ious  of  these  Onvernment  houses  were  occupied. 


i  : 


their  gardens  of  considerable  size  and  gay  with  flow- 
ers, and  the  voices  of  children  resounded  with  laugh- 
ter and  merriment  from  the  enclosures.  There  was 
one  thing  observable  and  eminently  Russian.  Except 
the  road  on  which  we  were  driving,  there  was  no  pre- 
tence of  any  other— nothing  beyond  a  grass  track  in 
the  direction  of  any  of  these  villas.  The  cross  wnys 
leading  to  their  entrance  gates  were  left  as  chance 
left  them — tracks  in  the  soil,  only  marked  wiili  ilie 
wheels  of  the  timber  and  brick  carts  during  the  bun  i- 
ing.  Road-making  is  certainly  not  a  passion  of  the 
Russian  nature,  and  the  Muscovite  '^!  tcadam  has  yet 
to  be  born  who  shall  regenerate  both  the  city  and  the 
country.  But  the  houses  were  pretty  and  exceeding- 
ly picturesque,  showing  that  there  is  much  taste  for 
architecture  native  to  the  R'i-*nn  mind,  though  it  is 
at  present  not  very  pure,  but  slightly  bizarre, 

\\  i'  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  wood  ul  u  cunsider- 
able  collection  of  buildings.  This  was  the  Agiiua  u  al 
College.  It  consisted  of  a  liandsome  central  man- 
sion, in  which  were  the  museum,  lectui  i  ms,  li- 
brary, council-chamber,  an  1  ther  a}  ments.  This 
stood  apart,  and  near  it  were  the  dormitories  of  the 
students,  two  long  lines  of  building  forming  n  half- 
circle  with   a  c^nv   in  the  centre,  aiir!   fj^rine  to  the 


198 


VACATION  TIME. 


I 


COW  STABLES. 


199 


museum.  Beyond  these  was  the  Governors  resi- 
dence, and  then  again  the  farm-buildings,  barns,  sta- 
bles, yards,  cart-houses,  granaries.  On  the  far  side 
of  the  dormitories  was  the  church,  and  at  the  back- 
front  of  the  museum  a  large  flower-garden  with  bos- 
quets and  summer-houses,  and  fountains  and  basins, 
and  pretty  avenues  of  trees.  It  was  all  in  the  most 
perfect  order,  rich-looking,  clean,  and  substantial. 

Calling  on  the  Governor,  we  found  to  our  disap- 
pointment that  he  was  in  Moscow,  but  an  officer  of 
the  establishment  was  at  once  directed  by  the  secre- 
t^ary  to  show  us  everything.  It  appeared  that  the  col- 
lege was  now  empty,  the  students,  who  numbered 
two  hundred*  all  away  on  vacation,  it  being  the  sum- 
mer holiday.  So  all  the  professors,  seventeen  in  num- 
ber, were  away  too.  I  confess  that  in  my  heart  I 
was  thankful  the  seventeen  professors  were  in  the 
bosoms  of  their  several  families,  or  acquiring  know- 
ledge far  from  the  academic  shades.  The  idea  of 
seventeen  learned  men  was  an  oppression  to  a  simple 
traveller,  and  the  thought  that  1  could  walk  about 
the  whole  place  at  my  ease  and  see  for  myself  was 
an  inestimable  blessing. 

The  Consul  had  quietly  informed  me  on  our  way 
that  agriculture  was  not  much  in  his  line,  and  the 


1 


i 


officer  who  was  deputed  to  show  us  over  the  college, 
at  once  on  my  first  question,  admitted  frankly  that 
he  was  utterly  ignorant  of  all  matters  connected  with 
sheep,   cattle,  and  corn.      Evidently  one  thing  was 
quite  certain,  that  I  should  not  leave  the  college  that 
day  oppressed  with  a  plethora  of  knowledge  of  scien- 
tific farming.     The  officer  led  us  first  into  the  cow 
stables.     Nothing  could  be  cleaner  or  in  better  order ; 
but  the  cows — well,  they  were  all  away  at  some  pas- 
tures at  a  few  versts  distance,  thirty  in  number,  and 
all  of  them  were  of  Swiss  or  of  I^  itch  breed.      These 
were  preferred  to  English  breeds  as  better  milkers. 
The  bulls  were  in  the  next  stables,  four  from  Switzer- 
land and  two  from  Holland,  the  latter  appearing  the 
finer  blood,  but  they  were  all  small.     The  Swiss  had 
fine  broad  foreheads,  but  were  heavy  in  the  heads  as 
well  as  in  the  shoulders,  with  hollow  backs,  while  the 
Dutch  had  straight  backs,  more  classical  heads,  and 
were  finer  in  their  limbs.     They  were  well  cared  for 
and  kindly  treated,  as  the  polished  woodwork  of  tlie 
stalls,  and  the  sweet-smelling  hay  and  fresh  litter,  and 
glistening  chains  round  their  sleek  necks,  and  bright 
eyes   and  coats,  and  their  docile  ways,  all  testified. 
There  was  a  boiling-house  for  the  food,  and  a  tram- 
ua^  lor  this  all  through  the  stables.     T'    re  was      a 


f 


200 


THE  FARM. 


THE  LIBRARY. 


201 


chinery  for  threshing  corn,  and  for  cutting  it  and 
grass.  There  were  various  steam-engines  for  thresh- 
ing, but  those  by  ''  Woods ''  they  considered  the  best. 
In  the  yards  were  heaps  of  straw,  and  ranges  of  sacks 
of  corn  were  in  the  barns ;  while  horses  were  every- 
where— in  stables,  or  in  the  yards,  some  harnessed  to 
old-fashioned  telegas,  and  others  to  newly-fashioned 
farm  vehicles  considered  more  convenient.  The 
farm  horses  were  rather  small,  some  from  Belgium, 
others  of  a  native  race,  but  all  showing  bone.  There 
was  a  general  eye  to  character  in  the  selection.  In- 
quiring for  the  sheep,  in  the  hope  that,  like  Count 

L -,  there  might  be  here  a  fancy  for  the  black 

faces  from  the  South-downs,  I  heard  that  the  flock 
was  of  Russian  breed,  and  was  at  some  distance  off. 
The  farm  consisted  of  about  two  hundred  acres  of 
V  1,  and  about  one  hundred  more  of  arable  and 
pasture.  It  was  altogether  a  busy  and  pleasant  scene, 
and  thoroughly  enjoyable,  for  it  seemed  like  being 
suddenly  transported  by  a  magic  power  from  all 
foreign  and  strange  objects  away  into  the  midst  of 
home  sights  and  sounds,  with  the  charm  of  accustom- 
ed habits  and  the  perfume  of  associations  grateful  to 
the  senses. 

From  the  farmyard  we  went  to  the  nmseum  and 


1 


library.  The  whole  building  was  fitted  up  in  the 
usual  way  of  similar  places  of  study.  There  were  va- 
rious lecture-rooms,  and  separate  museums  for  the  dif- 
ferent subjects  attached  to  the  several  rooms  for  lec- 
tures. The  library,  a  long,  handsome  apartment,  was 
well  furnished  with  works  arranged  in  separate  cases, 
according  to  subjects.  Here  were  works  on  agricul- 
ture, on  animals,  on  soils,  on  manures,  on  anatomy, 
on  electricity,  on  chemistry,  on  forests,  and  in  various 
languages — French,  English,  German,  Russian.  This 
room  is  open  to  the  students  daily  from  ten  in  the 
morning  till  one,  and  again  from  three  till  six  in  the 
afternoon,  and  every  convenience  is  provided  for 
them  of  tables  and  writing  materials.  The  establish- 
ment in  all  its  parts  was  in  the  best  order,  neat  and 
well  cared  for,  and  yet  the  lecture-rooms  and  library 
showed  marks  of  being  constantly  used. 

Going  out  into  the  garden,  I  observed  to  my  com- 
panion that  none  of  the  buildings  had  a  Russian  look, 
but  rather  Italian,  the  large  central  mansion  being,  in 
fact,  a  very  ornate  Italian  house  on  a  large  scale. 

"  It  is  Italian,"  he  replied,  ''  and  its  history  is  this  : 
This  property  round  here  all  belonged  to  a  noble  of 

this  country,   Prince  G ,   and  he,  after  living  in 

Italy   for  some  time,   returned  here,  and  built  this 


i 


202 


HISTORY  OF  THE  PROPERTY. 


house,  and  all  the  others  for  offices — that  in  which 
the  Governor  lives,  and  those  used  as  the  students' 
dormitories,  and  the  stables  too,  except  that  those 
have  all  been  enlarged  and  added  to  lately  by  the 
Government  for  the  college.  But  this  principal  house 
is  tliO  <^nw.(^  n^   ii  \va;^  first  built.     Tlio  T m ace  died. 


•"1    !    1    ,     <  i 

,A  ■  l'   i       I 


W 


lor   :>i.'iiic   I  ;;ii^    :    i-u;    ociim 


o 


i-xnMv;rj;ini,  iK-r   uro\)vii 


ilil!)      livUl.         >Iil'      l}Ui'- 


>j  /  0  1*/ 

n<u)'Mlv  ovtT  ^]_iHti"^  kia-w  li^w  tlu-  flana  wa-  laaiiaa-'l; 

r    it       p.."     s^ 


biit    anxla-w,    in    tl]p    ripl    {],.•   wi^ 


0 


1 

1 1 


(  • 


T"i  ■")  1 '  *"  , 


ui 


.,- i      ^ 


I     '  i     -  ^*    ^     '   i  I 


il6    v.ane. 


1 


^lie 


ibrty  thousand  ^ilvcr  loubies  for  it,  about 
ai.J  puunds.  The  apothecary  at  once  sold  it 
to  the  Govi  1  liiai  la,  which  paid  much  more  thau  its 
va! ae,  the  sum  given  being  i\v  liundred  a,  i  fifty 
thousand  roubles,    :aa  i  morciaui  ' 'arty-six  :aousand 


I 


n 


^■i-:\^'V  II 


»  '  '>(  1  i  *    '1     '  •'.  1.  .a     ; 


i  '  1  .  ) 


ly, 


11 


=^a 


rlin^  n  r^nrpli 


riiinin>e  by  the 


■^   ■      ■  >"*  )  \  ^  i  ]  i      o 


it  'aof  -^  tlirough  so  iiinTra  liands,  all 


«a'  which  aiK     .t  aw  a^  ii  passes,  thn^    a-    ;ii-  end   liiC 
tain    [niri   is   ioa_:    ijcyonJ   liiu   v'aaiu   ui'   ihu    .irncle 

I  )i  a.iai  it. 


A  PETITION  TO  THE  GOVERNOR. 


203 


My  companion  laughed. 

"  How  are  the  employes  with  their  low  salaries  to 
live  if  they  do  not  make  a  little  money  by  their 
wits  ?"  And  then,  as  we  stood  by  the  fountain  in  the 
midst  of  the  garden,  as  it  threw  its  jets  of  water  into 


iilling 


!'  w Jia-i 


iua,  iiilu  liic    ha^aa    iiC 
o 


the   air,  ^pnrhlin^  in  tho   affornonri    sun,   a 
Willi    its  aai 

1  eiaW'ii   Uj  Ui 

'•  i)n*;'  ''a' hiv  acnuaintaia'ia  liure  at  MnvsNiw,  a  anna 


liiu  Wniwaaaa 


la-raaii    niaia  \\i 


■at'ti   lalrlv  Un'    a    -^luM-ial  j)>  nmf  cca^ 


..1 


w  I  [  h 


In: 


<^i 


i  1  !^ 


a-  !<">  what  hi'  - 
the  Ra--Ma  a! 
U|)  iii>  [)clil  i- *a 


a ''  1  u^  *. 


I       ■       ,   I    i     ;  i         <    I    ■         !  1  v.,       y_>  *,  /     I    V. 


1  [f  nj)]>lu''1  1^)   a    Rus-iaii 

**i  ifi^  ai  tliO  a'«  •vraaaaa  <aid 

Sa*  ha  ilfcw 


's    ^    '  i  n    ^  \     i  i       ; 


1       ;  n  >  1 

I  i  S  1  <  i 


.^,  iiuvaaw'  a'  --  wua<"i'. 


i'..'    i'uL«^i'^    '-  '-L      U  i^"     |*"^|'^  'i 


was  shown  into  the  secretai),  wh 
and  heard  the  case.  The  secretary,  ai  lie  most  polite 
and  urbane  manner,  made  light  of  the  a^  i  it 
would   be   granted  immediately.     He  w  aa  1    fi  i^   a 

fortnight,  and  then  hearing  la "thina  fr- aa    th.a  iinTrr- 

nor  he  *"alh'-l  n^aain.  ;\'ann  \\o  <nv^  \ho  ^-rcvi'liiv^.  :aia! 
airain  I  ■-■  \\.\-  ar''a!i-''a  :t;i  i'u!!is-ahac  ciaa|Hia,a(a'  wala 
hi^  [)ulition, — Uio  govuruui,  ^aid  lac  puhw  Laiaaah  had 
been  a  a^^ud  Liv.-ai   Laiaama  laieiN'  with  iniiHjWaiii  niaw 


ters.     w  i  1'  a  a  <  i'  a  a  »  a  i , 


i--va,  ,iat  I  at  *  aii-w  ^-v  ^'aiat 


11  the  gr.\  wa.or.     ^^-^  then  he  s]^- h*^  *•'    hi-  \l\\ 


'^•^  \  /\  \  \ 


j 


li 


?o>t 


BRIBING  OFFICIALS. 


friend  about  the  singular  delay.  '  Can  there  be  any 
rr  K  objection?'  said  he.  The  I' ussian  gentleman 
]!!•  rely  asked  this  question, — '  How  many  roubles  did 

ynii  ofl^  r   tlie   secret:!!;':''      m.    frienH    ^\  h   shocked. 

^  \^  ?:v.  t^--^  ^r^cr^'Ai'v  '<  n  gentlemaih  li-w  rr^nl]  \  von- 


luiv  I 


'"  n  ' 


(n 


11 


U:--ia!!  :    •  iji    CuUi^u   he   i:-,    \mI'    ! 


t  i  1  o 


cl*>  \'mU     lllllik    lie    liiLiIi;i_r''-     Uj    ki'<')  iu; 


>u^t\    ah'I  wi 


\-  n . ' 


and  IiuFm:-,  and  all  thai,  nn  hi.  pain-  silarx-  '^  (  )\u  r 
liiiii  ?^<»]iH^  r<»u1)le-.  ( 'F  \"< 'U  A\-iil  ect  liM  //. ////'V  ill  iW(U'>- 
rnrnitli^.'     S« !  tlu'V  caiiic  to  an  U!)(l'-r-ta]i<]!nLr  a-  Im  ilie 

llUinlu'!'  of  ]'Miii>l,.>  rryaf^.fj.l  f  r,  |  n  i  •  <,  TTr !  a  I'W  aii^l  ]n\- 
irifli'l  pl\-.ili(M  1   hilii-.'ll'  ajaii;  a*    lla^   [S'-^vrTU^^'-  h<'n]-r\ 

\t't  •■  1  ''  '  il'T 


liieii'i  L-ea.-v  uuL  i.i-  U;U  ri,;Liij.e  note,  aa^i 


ceil  a  ill    inismvmir   <  u    Uia 


a 


aj 


table  by  which  they  were 
g.  Ta  secretary  pulled  open  towards  liimself  a 
1' iia  Irawer  of  the  table,  and  putting  out  his  hand, 
AViii  a  -miling  face  and  a  most  courteous  gesture  to 


Tin    li'aar:. 


dro] 


(]lllUili'\ 


a  iiiusl 


(■!'!•  X 


fl 


i  I 


aote  a-!'  --  i"^a  lable,  aal 
?■  ' ii-awrr,  T^i  the '^raw'ta^  Avere  a 
notes.    Then  the  secr^  tary  rose  with 


a'aalcu  gc^* 


:^a]i»i  a]_>.  )ii /^a/-j  iii^-  .iaair  -ir^  n.a'  Uii-  Juhi 


\  '.''ail"  I H  ; 


rill 

1  i  i  I 


»  '^  t  ^  I '_'  i    a  a  ■"   .MM 


a^  .     'a\  liiou- 
r  plying  to 

Liaii  uCCUiacal, 


CnUBCH  OF  THE  COLLEGE. 


205 


but  it  shall  be  attended  to  instantly — without  an  hour  s 
delay.'  On  the  very  next  day  the  petition  was  grant- 
ed.      1  i   w  many  officers  and  secretaries,"  rl  1    1  ilie 

Consul  smilincT,  -  IM  this   ;   n  ^  i        Ttliis  estate  i^a^s 


'D1 


through   between   the  apotl 


a  -i'llTV 


III' 


I  •     "v    • 


■  T-n  _ 


I 


«-,i? 


"Th 

!ai!:ar'-l  airl  Un\ 


\]]o  apo^  1.,  (-{TV  ni' I  li! a 


:^a  nuWr  an  lia,'  ! wi > 


.  ai-an- 1    !'•  aU)h'^  f 


"  stid  L 


'■Goinl  ia<'k  :"  -ai*l  ihc  Consul,  'nio — that  would  have 
haLiinuj  uijju-'i  ;  iji  c^'UV-i'  llaaa'  \va>  a  hnr  divi^iun  of 
n  )!l  ])sa  \\a.A  !i  iha  \:\vb  >\i-  pariii'-,  >rV(a'al  t«  '11-bars  to  Ix^ 


tai^l    I !'  '\v<'i 


r:.,v, 


•.,  ti 


t •   t \V'» 


prau'i[)ain  thr  apt'ahncary   and 


i» 


I.  ■>-:••  lanva  ni . 


_\<  f1|,-.  r-.V'*.~.  ..i'lla"'  c^aT'lrii  ^tonrl  t]io   fiinri:!!   **{    tla: 


college. 


-;a<  a  ^nr-rnnfai  ( a 


I   \       iff    I    :  U  I   I     . 


;    \     J  i 


and  nothing  could  be  more  fencuui  laa a  n- 
broad  lliglit  of  steps  beneath  a  canop)    xl  . 
covered   landing  and  the  entrance,  the  pillar.- 
porting  the  canopy  being  of  1\         *       ha  a.  iw 


na*   n.*  a 


Thel-a-Mfta.  rliur-^:  Nvasof 


the  usual  cupolas  surmounting  the  roof.  Tlini  tin  iv^ 
wa^  a  '^axon  roundud  arch  to  t1ip  dnniava}.  whiie 
more  th nil   nno   of  the  lower   wni  a  n-  icia aaan   i    ni 

the  p'^ina^i,  :5iyle.  in  inc  apj-r  \u\i{  wcic  >i!ia[i 
A\  iii'a  .O'l  ^     Wi^ii    _\i  •-,■•„' iiis  i  t    iiaL\\aa.i\,    lUiO,     ni^oiX     >nii.lii 


'I  lis  it    iiatwaa.  i\j     .lii'i      P^^-'-O 


206 


THE  STUDENTS. 


M  orisli  pillars.     When  you  add  to  all  this  that  some 
pillars  were  painted  red  a;  1  some  blue,    i    1 


t  ! 


1 'right  as  a  freshly  painted 


picMi"' •.  -;<  m  ^N 


'i''!])  lookinCf  :it   *!   all  : 


'  !    -..'       *  i 


P^ 


ill. 


.  n  tr.v  ratlin]-    ihnn  a  ^--anx^h,      1  '!;■! 
X''>  'loiiin  1  hat  wa-  a  laaahl   la'il.  •ri  i.  ^; 


.4*  \' 


rr.r^ 


*a     i!ir 


Miv 


iai\'ait,'  rha; 


M-i  <  .f  ilh'  Ku-^ian 


PriiiCa  (.!• 


Aik'i  a  luiiclu;nii  at  a  traklir  in  the  lu i-Iil^M.iuiaM).!^ 
wlaaa."  inx"  coiniKinioii  aii'l  T  iinliil'jril  intlii'  tln'roiiaailv 
rais-iaii  ivfia'slinuait  of  (aiviaro  aial  clua'Sr  aial  laaiah', 
we  <lr(nx*  back  to  M«'scnw  tn  tlic  fanaair^  I'c^taiirant 
on  tlio  Kiiai  Tx  tiij.varsl.  wla-ri'  wr  laal  a  liii-Mau 
dinner.  ILa'e  wa-  -al  "ii  wlntr  -«>!a-,  oui'  ^\;aa'a\-.^ 
>]ia'if'l    \vii,:i    whia'     hnaa-,     <'ar    lahlv'    t:ii\ui\J    wi'li 


::liu\\j'   \\;: 


1 1 


iiuai,  uau. 


L.  *  J.  '^ 


iiiU'IX 


\\  ii'j    \\  LiiL*_'  L   uii     US 


a,  Si 


a '   ...    . , 


1  entirely  in  white,  ja  i 


i 


>  V    1  i  '.    '  i 


:  i 


of  the  large  a^  ntment  being 


O.', 


M'  . 


nark,  !  ; 


1  1  <         n 


i  M'   r\ 


the     f;!!'!!-      ^ai'f'n'^'li     ti'i"' 


<^f'it'!. 


rnlloge. 


K' a    iiiv   r^'^rnpaaa'-'n    wa.a'    w.i 
h  t  ^  - 1  a  =  i  *  i  a  -  ^ ' !  \i 

Ul    list   ai    ui     CLiUl^v;   alu     poor,    sons     of   ::liiaii   iiubiL^,     uf 


I  t  11  ■  i  i  V  V     1    !  1 


si\'<_-l  a  little  naaaa^  ai    li  aa^-  :    !ai!    as 


(11 


EDUCATION  OF  YOUNG  NOBLEMEN. 


207 


the  payment  is  small,  and  they  can  live  cheap,  they 
manage  to  attend  the  college  ;  then  there  are  sons  of 
lawyers  and  doctors,  and  of  commercial  men,  of  Avhom 


there  i*^  n  1  iriic  body  lu 


o 


\     * 

J\Lu ^^~'j  Sv . 


,  ■    ^  M       a"      .  —   T 

'' A^r  aa\    ui   liiviii  iii^a  ai-nir--     -ai'^   .1. 


'D 


h. 


''  It   1:-   a  luiiiaiKaijie    laaiaj 

'     I ,^  [.,  .J-.  liiia  < ai    ill  t  !ait  cui>s. 


'*  wrsa! 


riiaaj,^;  1  lUr 


])iit  1ii-  soil--  into  anytliiiig 
Inn  v:,r  Army.  T1a-v  ^lal  nr.t  liki-  tlia  Navy— in 
llu-ia  iliat  i<  thniiaiit  low  and  not  ia^hionable  :  the 
vouna  imai  wiail  throuiili  a  course  oi'  reading  in  the 
uni\ai-inr<:  thry  Iraiait  a  little  of  everything,  very 
cup.aai(iailv,  ui  ojar>v,^  and  not  very  usetiilly— 
bci*.  ni-;e. 


paa. 


reaaao' 


•ill,    lar^l.a'vjanguaga^.    and    niililary  tactics : 

tlicy    were 

riw.    iirop^aratatrv    Ka-  the 


^vJM'a    ihi-v    raair    ^  aa    of   ilir    anivrr^ilic'^ 


1,1.  1    ,     ■   i        :  «    !   • 


;:;t    u^'V^,  -in^^  tlif^ 


'a 


f     n  w^ 


lae 


sei'f^.  tk'-  ivddes  find  it  iiere^^a;  v 

whir])  aro  naa^ii    ^-ai-piilnrh  i.^ia  i 


;uKL;d    ailcl.        1  la.' 


erai^e^ia^  ace    va 


i^     lii.aL     ::LaUO      ^'1      I 


la- 


1 


)iTncu>a_l 


Mil       i_l  .'Ui 


ili'V  aia'  cducalina 


llUL    i-'l 


O  i  t,'       >  \   i     i  1  i     '    .       '  ' 


niio   <  4  !  laar  -<aa". 


H/  an    aa<ait  <  A-ra' 


the  family  estates. 


these   N'oiiaa    naai   ar 


:v  at  ik.'  an]k.a:-.  and  ar-  rv^.^aiia  ar-   .Mh,.a.'atinn  in 


a:,.akaikur<'  T 


.  1 


.    ^  I  i.    .     I    ' '  '•      - 


iy 


i 


208 


POSITION  OF  THE  NOBLES. 


''  This  freeing  of  the  serfs,"  said  I,  "  seems  to  be  the 
beginning    of    a    very   considerable   change   in   the 


( 1 1 


n  1 1  f 


'1 


!'V. 


»» 


"in    nniVM 


,.!.. 


11 


1 1 .  >  • 


mge,    Si 


n^  n 


i  • 


"*  not    ilh 


>  1  » 


I    X  I  H  i:'M/i  i     t  i ..  ■     fi  iH  t  il ;  i 


'  =1     I  I  it 


i.l 


)l'{  )- 


and  in  ulliur-  ii  ha- 

>y>Lr!i[.  Many  wliu  \\\rc  ih. 'ULriit  !<)  !><■  rirj 
p^'i^"*'^N  nini.-]  out  In  hr  jMM.i-  -iiA  \\L  dviA  In  i].,.;,. 
''^^■Ji  a-viir->  aii.l  M'rf^.  S. .  iiii^  J:.  umi  n  p^puhir  ad  uT 
tlu.' Enip-Tvu-,  tliaf  i<,  n.  •[  am.  .iiLf  lIuMiohh- ;  ]ni\  ilnav 
aiH'  fVrii  !iiaii\-  Mi"iliO]ii  thiiik  if  a  \-ta'\-  ii-ffnl  incaMii^' 


■ij 


i  !        1 


!        I  '    ■  ; 


■.-^   ^nn,- 


liL'l"' 


lI     iLU:r^'ia!! 


i  t  ■  •  .    I 


le.     There  i 


5     llU      <  ! 


^1 


lie 


went  on,  ••  !)m  iluit  the  position  of  the  noble^  ha!  ])e- 
come  a  very  false  one :  some  were  ricli  and  oppressive 
•  their  people,  and  others  were  poorer  than  ilieir 
own  serfs." 

T  Tii-ntioned  •♦>  ]um  what  Count  T. — lai]  :■•'  1  -ae. 

'!>  ^^  i'l'-^  trii  .".n!  liu  Consul;  '^  and,  more- 
over, they  woro  almost  universally  gnniMcrs.  The 
ijuauLity  of  money  they  played  away  in  the  winters 
aiiv  la  Moscow  \>  a-  nioustrous ;  and  wlion  they  ha  1 
lost  h  avily,  and  sent  down  to  their  e>L  ii^^  lu  iheir 


GAMBLING. 


209 


agents  for  more,  the  agents  were  their  own  serfs  very 
often  and  lent  them  their  own  money.  Xjw  he 
nobles  cannot  any  longer  play  deep  in  thi-  wa^ .  and 
so  the  commercial  men  hi  AT  av  ai 
places.     These  men  play  even   more  h 


.a. 


\-  >  I  \r    t  ! !  ■  >  n     t  '  M  ■ 

<    .  .    •         1    i  i  t  i  ,  i       L  ;  :  t 


noW^^  *ha.      A:    tho   C]i]h   vnn    iiinv    ^---a   a    thriu-and 

r'Miaa.'^  i'li  a  *a;n,  lh'Ua-\"!i\  lia'-a  lucii  h\'  lliiar 
iu-^ci  ilo  iiK'i  liu  -u  mucii    fnl-clUfi    a-    iht/    Ilnhh'S  did. 

\\  iaai  du'M'  iiiii li<_aaiiir>  aial  aahtjis  lu:?u  iheir  nnnicv 
ii  l:'^  *'  -  a '  an\'  '  'ihrf  lainH  i\v]iar.  a.!i'i  Uio  uiiU  <^()i'>  on  : 
l)!il  ifa  !i*»Mr  da!naL''«'d  hi-  i"-tatr<,  hi- pci  ij)h:'  suflVred, 
hn    land,    hi-    xiHaLfes,    liU   li'adr^naai,    his    children. 


C'\'oryimr\      N'.'W 


V   I  h« '  ?  i<  a  » i « '<  'i  vi  i  ] 


a'hu'<  are  heC'inniix  more  seiisi- 


nexi  paueratioii  whl  be  ililhTC-nt  men." 


^ 


210 


THE  SIMONOFF  CONVENT. 


211 


A 


^TT\?TER  XTTI 

The  Convent  Simonoff— Extent  and  Wealth  of  the  1  blishment  in 
Former  Tiur  Day  of  St.  Sergius,  and  Fair  at  the  Convent- 
Superb  Bell-tower-  \  'ties  of  Costume— VunnL'  Gamblers — 
Interior  of  the  Simonoff— The  Superior— His  i;^..ption  by  the 
Crowd—"  D 'voured  with  Kisses"— The  Church— Earnest  Devotion 
of  a  Youiii — \  i  V  fi  ni  tlir  B.  11-tower — Disappearance  of  my 
'^  Murray"— Distribution  cn  n    i— The  Fete  proper— Tea-drinking 

i  oggars — Organ -Grinders — 


Booths — Sale  oi    '1    ons  and  li 
Female    Shop-k  .^.i-s    of    I^I 
i'dsants. 


-w — Chorus-singing — Well-to-do 


rpiiL   31_':k\va,  after  flowing  into  the  city  from  the 
Span     .    Hills,   and  washing   the  walls  of  the 


1 


Kr  !n"K..  !M;ikes  a  1 1 -n  bend,  and  flows  out  again 
almost  in  the  same  direction  by  which  it  entered.  At 
tlir  point  where  the  river  leaves  the  city  there  are 
Lii:!:  prf  r^ipitous  banks  a  little  withdraw>i  from  the 
w  I  r.  A  meadow  is  between  the  stream  and  the 
hinrh  gro  ih  I  ^  ^.  one  of  these  heights  stands  the 
1  vent  >ii ii_uoff^  an  extensive  collection  of  build- 
ings contained  withm  a  lofty,  embattled,  ponderous 
wall,  dotted  ai  intervals  with  imposing  towers.     This 


1^ 


! 


.f 


is  of  rod  brick,  and  is  more  than  half  a  mile  in  cir- 
cuit.    Tlie  convent  is,  in  fact,  a  small  fortress,  and  in 
the  days  of  bows  and  arrows,  and  spears  and  clubs, 
and  battering-rams  and  Tartar  horsemen,  it  stood  a 
good  siege  or  two  successfully,  tlie  monks  beatinsi  off 
their  assailants.     The  day  came  when  new  powers  of 
warfare  were  in   use,  and  then  it  was  taken  by  the 
Poles  and  sacked.     As  it  was  once  the  most  nH|),|f. 
ant  monastery  in   Russia,  and  iia  !    heon  onrirlnd  by 
numerous  princely  private  gifts  of  great  v;i-;     !  .    i  les 
the  treasures  which  it  had  collected  as  owner  nfhv<ye 
estates,  the  capture  was  an  immense  prize  to  liiL  in- 
vading Pole.     Imagine  this  convent  possessing  at  one 
tune  inirnerous  villages  and  twelve  thousand  serfs! 
W  iiat  nbln  diplomats  must  have  been  St.  Sergius  ;m  i 
his  successors  among  religious  devotees  to  amass  such 
a  property  ii^  this  !     Clearly  the  Greek  papas  did  not 
thmk  lightly  of  temporal  power  any  more  than  does 
our  neighbour,   the  Papa  of  Rome.     However,   the 
day  of  reverse  arrived,  and  now  the  Simonoff'  pos- 
sesses neither  village  nor  serf.     But  still  it  retains  its 
hold  on  the  aff'ections  and  the  devotions  of  the   u   s- 
sian  people,  and  flourishes  in  a  quiet,  sensible,  unos- 
tentatious way,   keeping  its  fine  buildings   in   good 


order,    maintaining    a    few    monks,    and    si 


U']'-  '\Uncr 


p  2 


212 


GOING  TO  THE  FAIR. 


SUPERB  BELL-TOWER. 


213 


its  services  in  its  various  and  highly-ornamental 
churches.  There  are  six  churches — once  not  too 
many  for  its  numerous  monks  and  ecclesiastical  dis- 
play in  its  palmy  days — now,  in  its  hour  of  shrunk 
proportions,  too  like  a  mockery  of  grandeur ! 

Hearing  one  day  that  there  was  to  be  a  fair  held  at 
the  SimonofF  Convent,  I  thought  it  a  good  opportunity 
to  pay  it  a  visit.  A  fair  at  a  convent  sounded  like  a 
novelty.  So  I  drove  up  there  in  a  droschky,  the  dis- 
tance being  between  three  and  four  miles  from  my 
hotel.  On  my  way  along  the  river  bank  round  the 
bend  of  the  Moskwa  in  the  town,  I  passed  numerous 
knots  of  people,  the  women  all  in  holiday  costume, 
and  the  men  in  their  best,  all  on  the  way  to  the  Simo- 
nofF. At  length  the  houses  ceased,  and  we  came  out 
on  a  sandy  slope,  an  open  space,  our  droschky  reduced 
to  a  walk  through  the  deep  track.  Other  droschkies 
and  carriages,  as  well  as  telegas  and  tarantasses  were 
on  all  sides  toiling  up  the  slope,  and  people  on  foot 
all  cheery  and  laughing,  all  going  to  the  fair — a  gene- 
ral holiday.  It  was  the  day  of  St  Sergius,  the  saint 
and  founder  of  the  convent.  Reaching  the  top  of  the 
sandy  slope,  we  found  the  vallum  or  boundary  bank 
and  ditch  of  the  city  running  right  and  left,  and  over 
this  parties  of  country  people  were  clambering  to  join 


^ 


« 


I 


the  town  throng.     Passing  a  small  wood  or  plantation 
of  fir-trees,    in   the   shade  of  which  were   reposing 
numerous  little  family  circles,   with  their  baskets  of 
provisions,  just  arrived  across  the  neighbouring  vallum 
from  their  villages,  we  came  out  on  a  smooth  broad 
space  of  turf.     On  this  stood  the  SimonofF,  its  fine 
and   lofty  and  ancient  walls  extending  right  across 
from  near  the  vallum  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
precipitous  hill  towards  the  river  and  the  meadow. 
Over  these  towered  up  the  cupolas  and  minarets  of 
the  various  churches  within,  while  near  the  angle  by 
the  pitcli  of  the   hill   stood   the  superb   bell-tower, 
rising  storey  over  storey  above  the  grand  gateway, 
to  a  height  of  more  than  three  hundred  feet.      This 
bell-tower  is  said  to  command  a  really  better  view  of 
Moscow  than  either  the  Ivan  Veliki   tower   in  the 
Kremlin  or  the  height  of  the  Sparrow  Hills. 

The  large  open  space  of  turf  was  now  covered  with 
some  two  or  three  hundred  carriages,  while  the  people 
on  foot  might  be  counted  by  thousands.  It  was  a  grand 
day  at  the  SimonofF. 

I  had  with  me  an  Italian  as  an  interpreter,  and  so 
leaving  our  droschky  on  the  grass,  we  tried  to  gain  an 
entrance  to  the  interior  by  the  great  gate  beneath  the 
bell  tower.     But  this  was  locked  for  this  day,  and  we 


212 


GOING  TO  THE  FAIR. 


SUPERB  BELL-TOWER. 


213 


its  services  in  its  various  and  highly-ornamental 
churches.  There  are  six  churches — once  not  too 
many  for  its  numerous  monks  and  ecclesiastical  dis- 
play in  its  palmy  days — now,  in  its  hour  of  shrunk 
proportions,  too  like  a  mockery  of  grandeur ! 

Hearing  one  day  that  there  was  to  be  a  fair  held  at 
the  Simonoif  Convent,  I  thought  it  a  good  opportunity 
to  pay  it  a  visit.  A  fair  at  a  convent  sounded  like  a 
novelty.  So  I  drove  up  there  in  a  droschky,  the  dis- 
tance being  between  three  and  four  miles  from  my 
hotel.  On  my  way  along  the  river  bank  round  the 
bend  of  the  Moskwa  in  the  town,  I  passed  numerous 
knots  of  people,  the  women  all  in  holiday  costume, 
and  the  men  in  tlieir  best,  all  on  the  way  to  the  Simo- 
nofF.  At  length  the  houses  ceased,  and  we  came  out 
on  a  sandy  slope,  an  open  space,  our  droschky  reduced 
to  a  walk  through  the  deep  track.  Other  droschkies 
and  carriages,  as  well  as  telegas  and  tarantasses  were 
on  all  sides  toiling  up  the  slope,  and  people  on  foot 
all  cheery  and  laughing,  all  going  to  the  fair — a  gene- 
ral holiday.  It  was  the  day  of  St  Sergius,  the  saint 
and  founder  of  the  convent.  Reaching  the  top  of  the 
sandy  slope,  we  found  the  vallum  or  boundary  bank 
and  ditch  of  the  city  running  right  and  left,  and  over 
this  parties  of  country  people  were  clambering  to  join 


J 


the  town  throng.     Passing  a  small  wood  or  plantation 
of  fir-trees,   in   the   shade  of  which  were   reposing 
numerous  little  family  circles,  with  their  baskets  of 
provisions,  just  arrived  across  the  neighbouring  vallum 
from  tlieir  villages,  we  came  out  on  a  smooth  broad 
space  of  turf.     On  this  stood  the  Simonoif,   its  fine 
and   lofty  and  ancient  walls  extending  right  across 
from  near  the  vallum  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
precipitous  hill  towards  the  river  and  the  meadow. 
Over  these  towered  up  the  cupolas  and  minarets  of 
the  various  churches  within,  while  near  the  angle  by 
the  pitch  of  the   hill   stood   the  superb   bell-tower, 
rising  storey  over  storey  above  the  grand  gateway, 
to  a  height  of  more  than  three  hundred  feet.      This 
bell-tower  is  said  to  command  a  really  better  view  of 
Moscow  than  either  the  Ivan  Veliki   tower   in  the 
Kremlin  or  the  height  of  the  Sparrow  Hills. 

The  large  open  space  of  turf  was  now  covered  with 
some  two  or  three  hundred  carriages,  while  the  people 
on  foot  might  be  counted  by  thousands.  It  was  a  grand 
day  at  the  Simonoff. 

I  had  with  me  an  Italian  as  an  interpreter,  and  so 
leaving  our  droschky  on  the  grass,  we  tried  to  gain  an 
entrance  to  the  interior  by  the  great  gate  beneath  the 
bell  tower.     But  this  was  locked  for  this  day,  and  we 


214 


FAVOURITE  COLOUR. 


GOOD  TEMPER  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


215 


were  directed  to  a  gate  elsewhere.  Falling  into 
the  stream  of  people  round  the  angle  of  the  wall  on  the 
pitch  of  the  hill,  we  found  a  narrow  roadway  under 
the  ponderous  battlemented  inclosure  for  two  or  three 
hundred  yards,  and  then  we  came  to  another  gateway 
with  a  fine  tower  above  it.  This  was  the  one  permit- 
ted entrance  to  the  courts  within  on  this  day,  and  here 
the  different  streams  of  people  meeting  from  opposing 
sides  along  the  wall,  as  well  as  another  surging  up  the 
the  hill  at  this  point  from  a  footpath  across  the  mea- 
dow, there  was  a  gathering.  Not  being  in  a  hurry, 
I  got  out  of  the  crowd  and  climbed  a  bank  between 
the  road  and  the  pitch,  and  so  could  look  on  in  peace 
at  the  moving  panorama.  There  were  no  gentry  in 
this  mass,  but  all  were  rural  folk  or  town  populace. 
All  were  well  dressed,  and  there  was  every  kind  of 
costume  from  different  parts  of  the  country. 

Amongst  all  people  that  I  have  seen,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  Poles  in  the  villages,  who  have  a  ghast- 
ly taste  for  being  clothed  entirely  in  white,  and  the 
Bohemians,  who  have  a  funereal  fondness  for  a  general 
suit  of  black,  the  usual  costume  has  a  strong  admixture 
of  red.  The  passion  colour  of  Russia  is  decidedly  red. 
Now  in  this  crowd  almost  every  woman  wore  some 
article   of  this  colour,  either  her  cap  on  her  head, 


^. 


i 


or  a  kerchief  on  her  neck,  or  her  dress  was  red,  or 
her  bodice,  or  her  stockings, — while  the  favourite 
wear  of  the  men  of  the  peasant  class  was  a  red  shirt 
worn  as  a  tunic  with  a  crimson  belt.  One  of  the  com- 
mon articles  of  dress  of  the  women  was  a  Scotch 
woollen  shawl  of  a  red  and  black  check.  This  Scotch 
shawl  is  a  grand  discovery  for  them,  as  it  is  light  and 
warm,  and  is  of  the  darling  hue — red. 

Certainly  the  Russian  people  are  a  good-tempered, 
easy  race.  Here  was  a  mass  of  persons  all  huddled 
together  at  this  one  gate,  and  yet  I  saw  no  pushing, 
no  crushing,  no  quarrelling ;  and  yet  there  was  plenty 
of  occasion  for  it.  There  were  big  burly  men  with  their 
wives  and  children,  heated  and  dusty  from  a  long  coun- 
try walk,  the  women  having  borne  the  burden  and 
heat  of  the  day,  which  means  having  carried  a  thump- 
ing child  ;  and  here  were  numbers  of  young  peasant 
lads  in  rough  canvas  dresses, — all  having  one  object, 
the  gateway,  and  yet  all  were  patient  and  good-tem- 
pered, chatting,  laughing,  happy. 

There  was  another  use  being  made  of  the  day  of  St. 
Sergius  on  the  meadow  under  the  hill.  Just  in  front 
of  me  the  stream  of  people  from  the  river  bank  came 
up  the  pitch ;  but  immediately  below  me  out  on  the 
grass  by  the  pathway  were  several  knots  of  young  men 


216 


'*  HEADS  AND  TAILS." 


WAITING  FOR  THE  PAPA. 


217 


and  lads  standing  about  a  little  apart.  These  lads 
were  all  gambling.  They  stood  in  circles  of  eight 
and  ten,  and  each  lad  of  a  circle  took  it  in  turn  to 
toss  a  coin  into  the  air  and  let  it  fall  on  the  ground.  I 
asked  my  guide  what  the  game  was.  It  appeared  to 
be  gambling  pure — a  variety  of  the  good  old  game  of 
^*  heads  and  tails."  Each  man  of  a  circle  was  called 
on  to  declare  that  '^  he  stood  a  kopeck  "  on  the  toss. 
Then  the  player  having  ascertained  that  all  had  de- 
clared, tossed,  crying  as  he  tossed  ''  heads  "  or  "  tails." 
If  it  came  up  heads,  then  he  received  all  romid  ;  and 
if  tails,  then  he  paid  all  round,  or  vice  versa^  as  he  cried 
on  tossing.  I  re  were  five  or  six  of  these  groups. 
Some  of  them  played  high,  and  some  played  low. 
We  could  hear  their  challenges.  One  young  fellow 
was  very  excited.  Before  he  tossed  the  coin  he  cried 
out  "two  kopecks"  to  his  circle.  This  group  was  play- 
ing high.  **  Two  kopecks."  There  were  some  little 
hesitations,  but  presently  they  all  declared,  the  young 
fellow  sajdng  little  irritating  things — tantamount  to 
^'  Now  then — who's  afraid  ? — only  two  kopecks — never 
say  die — make  your  fortune — only  two — all  declared? 
— up  she  goes !  Heads  !"  The  fair  at  the  convent 
evidently  had  a  side  which  was  not  religious  and  de- 
voted to  the  Virgin  and  St.  Sergius. 


#. 


i 


The  interior  of  the  SimonofF  consists  of  a  number  of 
large  and  small  buildings  irregularly  placed  all  round 
near  the  wall — with  the  exception  of  the  principal 
church — the  centre  being  left  open  for  grass  lawns 
and  shady  avenues  of  dwarf  limes,  and  pathways 
paved  with  flags,  leading  in  various  directions  to  the 
several  churches.  This  interior  is  very  pretty.  On 
ordinary  days  it  is  a  quiet  retreat,  inviting  to  study — 
a  shady,  orderly  spot,  like  a  college  garden  ;  a  place 
of  religious  repose  with  an  atmosphere  of  peace.  But 
on  this  day  of  the  fete  it  was  a  stirring  scene  of  lay 
life,  an  invasion  of  the  sacred  precincts  by  the  mun- 
dane, gaiety-loving  outer  world.  People  were  lying 
on  the  grass  in  parties,  or  sitting  on  the  benches 
under  the  avenues,  or  strolling  along  the  many  path- 
ways in  knots.  There  was  one  of  these — a  wood- 
paved  way— leading  across  the  grass  from  the  gate- 
way by  which  we  had  entered  to  the  great  church, 
and  on  this  was  collected  all  the  way  along  a  number 
of  people.  My  guide  said  that  the  principal  of  the 
convent  would  pass  along  this  path  from  his  rooms  by 
the  gateway  to  the  church,  and  the  people  were  wait- 
ing for  him.  So  I  sat  down  on  a  seat  at  the  edge  of 
the  path  near  the  flight  of  steps  up  to  the  church,  and 
waited  too. 


,11 


218 


A  PEASANT  WOMAN. 


THE  SUPERIOR. 


219 


It  was  a  pleasant  scene,  the  quiet — for  there  was  no 
noise  beyond  the  low  hum  of  the  people — the  shade, 
the  grass,  the  cool  paved  way,  the  pretty  dresses  of 
the  village  folk,  the  many  children  on  the  turf,  not 
romping  about,  but  orderly  and  seated  with  their 
parents ;  and  here  and  there  a  few  of  the  better  classes 
from  the  city,  apart  and  in  knots  of  twos  and  threes 
in  the  avenue,  in  silk  or  muslin,  with  fashionable  bon- 
nets. There  were  strawberries  too  going  about  in 
little  white  basins,  and  these  were  the  centres  of  small 
happy  groups  on  the  turf.  As  I  sat,  a  peasant 
woman  with  her  red  cap  and  blue  dress  came  and 
stood  near  to  wait  for  the  papa,  and  with  her  was  an 
engaging  small  girl  of  ten  years  of  age.  Her  delicate 
face  and  fair  hair  tied  up  with  a  slip  of  pink  silk,  and 
her  pretty  brown  eyes,  were  very  attractive.  Although 
I  could  not  understand  a  word  of  her  village  talk, 
nor  she  of  my  efforts  at  classic  Russ,  we  were  soon  in 
deep  converse  on  the  matter  of  a  pink  sash  round  her 
white  dress,  and  ribbons  of  the  same  colour  in  her 
sleeves,  and  some  white  glittering  beads  in  her  jaunty 
cap  ;  and  we  were  in  the  middle  of  a  marked  flirta- 
tion, and  I  was  meditating  an  advance  into  straw- 
berries, when  suddenly  there  was  a  stir  among  the 
people,  and  an  arranging  of  themselves  into  two  lines 


! 


fj 


on  either  side  the  pathway.  The  Superior  was  com- 
ing. Presently  I  saw  the  lines  of  people  surging 
backwards  and  forwards,  the  quiet  order  rapidly 
broken,  people  rushing  about,  women  and  children 
hurrying  over  the  grass,  and  then  there  was  an  in- 
creased hum  of  voices.  The  disturbance  approached 
steadily  and  slowly,  and  at  last  it  gained  those  before 
me.  And  now  I  saw  that  the  cause  of  this  was  a 
slight  and  venerable  man,  in  a  priest's  dress,  with  a 
small  black  cap  on  his  head,  of  cloth,  full  and  hang- 
ing down  behind,  and  ornamented  in  front  with  a  bit 
of  crimson  velvet,  and  whose  hands  every  person  was 
determined  to  kiss  as  he  advanced  up  the  pathway. 
Four  or  five  at  a  time,  men  and  women,  would  make 
a  dart  at  his  left  hand,  and  liaving  gained  possession 
of  it,  would  kiss  it  eagerly,  fiercely,  while  others  from 
the  other  side  of  tlie  pathway  got  in  front  of  him  and 
fought  for  his  right  hand — they  would  have  it.  The 
old  man  stopped  till  the  devotees  had  had  their  way. 
When  they  had  kissed  it  they  fell  back  contented,  out 
of  the  way,  and  the  patriarch  advanced  a  step  or  two, 
till  arrested  again  by  the  same  furious  devotion.  He 
appeared  to  try  to  get  on  and  to  avoid  some  of  this 
expression  of  love,  and  his  old  thin  face  turned  from 
side  to  side  wearily  as  he  muttered  a  few  words  at 


220 


DEMONSTRATIVE  REGARD. 


VIEW  FROM  THE  TOWER. 


221 


times.     When  he  had  both  his  hands  free  for  a  mo- 
ment then  he  raised  them  and  crossed  himself  Imr- 
riedly  and  uttered  a  blessing ;  but  in  an  instant  they 
were  dashed  at  and  pulled  do\\Ti  again,  and,  as  may 
be  said,  "devoured  with  kisses."     So  he  got  on,  up  to 
the  steps  at  the  entrance  of  the  church.     But  here  the 
struggle  became  worse  than  ever.     The  whole  flight 
was  a  mass  of  people,  so  w^as  the  platform,  and  so  was 
a  long  covered  raised  arcade  which  ran  round  the 
sacred  edifice.     The  old  man  mounted  the  steps  at 
last,  and  passed   into   the   arcade,    and  so   into  the 
church,  thoroughly  hustled*  by  the   ardent   and   reso- 
lute hand-kissing   crowd.      How  glad   he  must  be, 
methought,  to  be  inside  and  at  his  ease  once  more, 
poor  old  gentleman.     But  there  is  perhaps  a  certain 
gratification  to  the  spirit  of  man  even  in  this  obtrusive 
and    enormously  demonstrative  regard.     Going  into 
the  arcade  soon  after,  and  following  its  course  round 
the  interior  fane,  I  found  various  small  grated  open- 
ings from  the  one  to  the  other,  so  that  people  in  the 
outer  arcade  were  able  to  see  and  hear  all  that  went 
forward  in  the  interior.     The  church  was  more  than 
ordinarily  rich  in  gilding  and  painting,  as  became  what 
was  once  the  principal  convent  in  Russia.     But  it  was 
singularly  small,  so  much  of  the  interior  being  taken 


up  with  the  usual  pillars  and  the  surrounding  corridor. 
Walking  along  this  I  found  various  small  bodies  of 
devotees,  and  in  one  corner  a  peasant  lad  in  grey 
white  canvas  prostrate  on  the  stones.  After  a  time 
he  got  up,  crossed  himself  with  much  earnestness,  and 
then  bowed  down  his  head  on  to  the  stones  again, 
and  prostrated  himself  at  length.  He  continued  this 
succession  of  devotional  movements  for  some  time, 
and  appeared  to  be  quite  WTapped  in  his  offering  of 
prayer  and  expression  of  humiliation.  At  last  he 
picked  up  his  cap  and  walked  away  slowly,  with  a 
certain  sadness  in  his  countenance  and  manner.  I 
certainly  never  saw  in  any  country  a  youth  of  this 
class  so  devout  and  apparently  so  impressed  with 
what  he  was  doing. 

From  this  I  went  to  the  famous  tower.  The  stair- 
case was  crowded  with  men  and  boys,  also  with 
pigeons,  which  disputed  with  us  the  possession  of 
their  customary  dwelling.  From  the  height  of  three 
hundred  feet  added  to  that  of  the  hill  on  which  the 
tower  stands,  the  scene  is  truly  grand.  You  are 
nearer  to  the  city  than  when  on  the  Sparrow  Hills, 
and  at  a  much  higher  elevation  than  when  on  the 
Ivan  Veliki  in  the  KremHn.  It  was  a  sunny,  still 
day,  and  the  whole  city  fairly  sparkled  with  its  white 


222 


PEASANT  LADS. 


\ 


SERVING  OUT  KVAS. 


223 


houses  and  green  roofs  and  its  gardens,  and  its  liun- 
dreds  of  gilded  and  glittering  cupolas  and  belfries. 
Then  there  was  the  river  flowing  through  it  with  its 
living  and  shining  and  graceful  sweep  of  water,  while 
on  the  meadow  below  the  tower,  and  up  the  sandy 
slope,  were  the  streams  of  people  coming  out  to  the 
convent.  On  the  grassy  table-land  were  the  scat- 
tered masses  of  carriages,  and  in  the  courts  of  the 
convent  were  the  crowds  of  gaily-dressed  folk — a 
general  festivity.  From  here  too  I  discovered  that 
the  chief  part  of  the  fete  was  going  on  beyond  the 
walls  on  the  eastern  side  towards  the  vallum,  beneath 
a  grove  of  fine  elm  trees. 

While  I  was  admmng  the  remarkable  scene  from 
the  topmost  chamber  of  the  tower,  two  or  three  young 
peasants,  dressed  in  grey- white  canvas — lads  similar 
to  the  devout  youth  in  the  arcade  of  the  church- 
were  very  anxious  to  make  my  acquaintance,  continu- 
ally following  me  from  one  window  or  opening  to 
another,  and  pressing  on  me  with  a  smiling  familiarity, 
and  addressing  me  in  Russian.  Through  my  com- 
panion I  had  some  simple  talk  with  these  men  as  to 
their  ideas  of  the  fair,  of  the  view  of  the  city,  of  their 
village  life.  I  must  say  that  most  of  the  notions  I 
gained  from  them  consisted  of  whatever  maybe  found 


in  broad  grins.  However  I  may  as  well  here  add  that 
some  little  time  afterwards,  on  descending  the  lower 
stairs,  I  found  my  pocket  lighter  by  a  "Murray" 
which  had  been  reposing  therein,  and  which  my  com- 
panion told  me  I  should  perhaps  find  in  the  "  Thief 
Market,"  near  my  hotel,  for  sale.  But  I  never  saw 
it  again,  or  my  young  friends  in  grey  white  canvas,  or 
the  youthful  devotee. 

Leaving  the  tower  I  followed  a  crowd  up  some 
steps  to  a  large  building,  and  found  we  were  on  our 
way  to  the  kitchen.  Here  in  an  ante-room  were  two 
monks,  the  cook  and  his  assistant.  They  were  in 
long  black  dresses,  and  were  in  an  extremity  of  heat, 
and,  I  may  say,  of  dirt.  They  were  engaged  in  serv- 
ing out  kvas — a  native  beer — to  all  comers  gratis  on 
this  day.  However  they  were  very  courteous  and 
civil  men,  and  were  anxious  that  I  should  not  drink 
out  of  the  enormous  copper  can  which  one  of  them 
held  up  for  the  peasants  and  others  to  take  a  good 
"  pull "  at  the  kvas.  But  I  took  my  turn  with  my 
big  and  bearded  and  canvas-habited  neighbours,  the 
ponderous  copper  can  and  the  gratuitous  beer  and 
the  burly  monk  having  about  them  a  smack  of  ancient 
time  and  custom  which  recommended  them  much  to 
my  fancy.  The  kitchen  was  closed,  perhaps  pru- 
dently on  a  dav  of  such  doings. 


I 


224 


THE  FAIR. 


So  I  went  out  to  the  fete  proper.     This  was  the 
fair.     Here   were   rows   of  booths  stretching   along 
under  two  rows  of  fine  spreading  trees,  three  or  four 
lines  of  tents,  and  broad  walks  of  grass  between  them. 
Here  were  some  thousands  of  people  in  every  variety 
of  garb,  many  well  dressed  and  merely  walking  up 
and  down  in  the  shade,  while  others  kept  up  a  con- 
tinual shouting  of  their  several  wares  for  sale.     One 
long  line   of  booths   was   entirely  occupied   by  tea- 
drinkers.     These   were    neat    small    square    places, 
some  thirty  or  forty  in  number,  built  of  white  linen, 
strained  over  a  slight  wooden  frame,  and  capable  each 
of  holding  a  table  and  seats  all  round  for  six  or  eight 
persons.     There  were  white  curtains  to  the  entrance, 
and  every  one  all  down  the  line  was  occupied  by  a 
little  party  of  men  and  women.     The  samovar  was 
steaming  on  every  table,  and  cups  and  saucers  and 
various  breads,  or  honey,  or  melons,  or  cakes,  were 
on  the  white  table-cloth.     I  found  one  of  these  at 
last  vacant,  and  took  possession,  so  that  while  drink- 
ing  tea  I  could   watch   the   humours   of  the  place. 
First,  a  man  would  pass  with  a  pile  of  melons,  yellow 
and  green,  rich  and  gorgeous,  on  a  tray  on  his  head, 
offering  them  at  a  fabulously  low  price — ten  kopecks 
a-piece — about  three  pence.     Melons  on  a  hot  day  in 


SALE  OF  HONEY. 


225 


the  sliade  after  a  dusty  walk  seemed  to  be  in  great 
demand.     In  the  centre  of  the  broad  way  a  seller  of 
honey,   with  a  stand,  stopped  just  opposite  my  tea- 
room and  offered  his  goods,  large  combs  floating  in 
broad  pans  of  liquid  honey.     This  seemed  to  be  a 
fiivourite  object  of  taste.     Strapping  young  peasants 
stopped  and  bargained  for  it— so  many  kopecks  for  a 
cut  of  comb  in  a  basin ;  and  then  they  ate  it,  standing 
there  and  cutting  off  large  mouthfuls  with  the  honey- 
merchants    knife.     They    threw    back    their   shock 
heads   and   let    huge   lumps    all    reeking    with    the 
liquid  fall  into  tlicir  capacious  jaws.    Sometimes  when 
a  man  had  finished  one  basin  he   hung  about    the 
stand,  and  then  bargained  eagerly  for  a  second,  and 
devoured  it  with  gusto.     It  gave  one  the  idea  of  a 
grand  vigorous   physique   to   look    at   these   ample- 
bearded  and  big-bodied  men  tossing  off  these  basins 
of  honey,  rich  and  luscious,  and  then  sauntering  off  at 
their    ease,    perhaps    to   the   next   honey   stall,    for 
another  basin.     Then  men  passed  up  and  down  with 
capacious  trays  of  bread  on  their  heads,   the  national 
kalatch  forming  always  the  greater  part  of  the  store. 
People  in  the  tea-rooms  bought  them  freely.     Beggars 
perseveringly  paid  visits  to  every  tea-room  in  turn,  a 
woman  and  two  children  being  the  favourite  arrange- 

Q 


226 


ORGAN-GRINDERS. 


ment  iii  this  line  of  business.  When  they  had  col- 
lected a  fair  meal,  such  as  the  leavings  of  a  tea-pot  of 
some  just  vacated  chamber  poured  out  into  a  can 
carried  for  this  purpose,  scraps  of  honey-comb,  broken 
kalatches,  sundry  lollypops,  or  some  melon  rind,  they 
sat  down  and  discussed  all  this  cheerily,  and 
expended  mucli  jollity  on  the  lollypops.  When 
refreshed  they  went  at  once  mto  business  at 
the  very  next  booth,  resuming  their  little  drama  of 
deep  sorrow,  and  bitter  want,  and  general  utter 
weariness  of  life.  All  this  time  there  were  the  usual 
and  universal  barrel-organs  going  up  and  down  the 
broad  way.  There  were  a  number  of  these — the 
street  nmsic  of  Moscow  as  of  London.  A  man  always 
carried  the  instrument,  and  a  woman  hivariably  fol- 
lowed close  behhid.  To  judge  by  appearances  of  the 
state  of  the  organ  world  one  would  say  that  in  London 
almost  every  organ-grinder  was  a  bachelor,  while  in 
Moscow  every  one  indulged  in  the  sweets  of  wedded 
life.  Tliey  are  travelled  men.  These  were  French  or 
Italian.  I  spoke  to  one,  and  his  acknowledgment 
for  my  kopecks  was  in  good  English,  "  Thank  you, 
sir — much  obliged,"  a  pleasant  surprise.  The  man 
knew  London,  and  he  played  nie  two  or  three  of  the 
old  accustomed  airs  ;  and  I  shut  my  eyes  and  fancied 


■* 


shopkeeper's  wives.  227 

myself  for  tlie  moment,  while  listening,  far  away  in 
the  wonted  liauuts  of  the  city  on  the  Thames.     There 
were  many  well-dressed  women  walking  about,  and 
my  companion  explained  the  different  status  of  the 
wearers.     Two  women  would  pass   dressed   in   rich 
dark  silk,  deep  brown,  or  dark  green,  or  such  like, 
and  wearing  on  the  head  a  close-fitting  black  silk  cap, 
the  whole  style  quite  plain   and  without  ornament. 
There  was  no  shawl,  and  only  a  small  simple  kerchief 
round  the  neck.     These  were  tlie  upper  class  of  shop- 
keepers, the  women  of  the  first  Moscow  houses.     As 
a  rule  these  were  of  large  stout  frame  and  of  dark 
complexion.     Then  would  come  two— they  were  all 
in  pairs— equally  richly  dressed,  only  that  the  colour 
was  a  little  brighter,  and  the  head-dress  was  a  dark 
kerchief  neatly  bound  round  it.     These  were  of  the 
second  class  of  shops.     And  then  there  were  others, 
also  in  silken  robe,  but  the  colours  stronger,  and  oa 
the  head  was  a  dark  kerchief,  having  long  ends  of 
brown  or  pink.     These  were  of  a  third  class.     The 
Sclave  type  seemed  to  be  strongly  marked  in  most  of 
them.     To  judge  of  their  business  by  their  size,  one 
would  say  shopkeeping  was  a  fiourisliing  way  of  life 
in  Moscow,  and  that  good  eating  and  drinking  formed 
a  considerable  part  of  trade. 

q2 


• 


228 


SIMONOFF  FAIR. 


DANDIES  OF  THE  FAIR. 


229 


Beyond  tlie  grove  of  trees  and  the  bootlis  there 
was  a  broad  meadow  of  soft  and  brilliantly    green 
grass,  and  here  were  groups  of  people  scattered  over 
it  in  all  directions.     But  the  Sinionoff  Fair  was  de- 
ficient in  many  things  which  constitute   the   glories  of 
a  British  festa  of  this  kind.     The  Simonoif  Fair  w^as 
limited  in  its  gaieties,  and  its  revels  were  subdued,  as 
a  convent  festa  should  be.     There  were  no  caravans 
of  wild    beasts    from  Africa,   or    farthest    Ind, — no 
theatre  for  the  Thespians,  no  stage  for  Shakespeare's 
heroes  to  strut  their  little  hour,  no  circus  for  horses 
of  genius,    no   Aunt   Sally,    no    giant   from    China. 
People  on  the  meadow  seemed  to  be  engaged  princi- 
pally in  doing  nothing  particular.     The  only  amuse- 
ment appeared  to  be  an  occasional  circle  of  perhaps 
twenty  persons  seated  on  the  grass,  in  the  centre  of 
which  was  a  man  with  some  instrument  of  music,  a 
tambourine  or  a  kind  of  drum,  and  he  led  a  song,  the 
circle  joining  in  chorus.     The  man  was  dressed  in  a 
costume  of  pink  knickerbockers  and  vest,   and   a  cap 
with  feathers  cocked  jauntily  on  his  head,   and  bright 
stockings  and  slippers.     This  seemed  a  kind  of  musical 
uniform.     The  men  had  good  manly  voices,  and  the 
chorus  was  thoroughly  energetic.     The  scene  rather 
reminded  me  of   the  Nile  boat   singer  and  his  en- 


/ 


III 


cirling  chorus,  for  the  song  appeared  to  be  a  kind  of 
impromptu,  the  man  saying  what  suited  him,  to  amuse 
his   auditory.     People   clustered  round  these  circles 
and  seemed  to  enjoy  the  sallies  of  the  singer  and  his 
music.     Men  in  red  came  about  with  refreshments, 
trays  of  cakes  and  various  breads,   and  others  with 
huge   glass   decanter-shaped   bottles  of  a   dnrk  red 
liquid,    cherry-water.      Among    the    groups  were    a 
number  of  peasant  families,  father,  mother,  and  chil- 
dren, strolling  about  at  their  ease,   well-dressed  and 
happy,  the  older  men  in  dark  cloth,   the  women  in 
bright-coloured  dresses,  shawls,  and  caps.     But  the 
most  remarkable  figures  of  all  were  the  men  of  the 
well-to-do  peasant  class,  men  from  thirty  to  fifty  years 
of  age,  in  the  national  costume.     These  were  the  dan- 
dies of  the  fair.     I  observed  one  man  with  greyish 
hair  more  than  usually  got  up.     This  man's  long  boots 
were  of  fine  polished  leather,  and  were  wrinkled  from 
tlie  calf  to  the  ankle,  quite  in  tlie  style  of  the  Hessian 
boot  of  our  younger  days.     His  knickerbockers  were 
of  black  velvet,  and  the  red  tunic  was  spotless.     The 
buttons  of  his  dark  vest  were  red,  and  the  cord  round 
his  waist  was  of  silk,  with  neat  tassels.     A  gorgeous 
brooch  was  in  his  black  neck-tie,  and  the  small  cap 
on   liis   short  grey  hair   was  of  black  velvet.      His 


230 


EMANCIPATED  SERFS. 


231 


face  was  clean  shaven,  and  his  countenance  bright  and 
full  of  intelligence,  the  figure  tall,  and  slight,  and 
graceful,  while  the  never-failing  dark  great-coat  over 
all  gave  to  the  whole  man  a  look  of  strength  and  sub- 
stance. But  the  women  with  him  were  of  the  real 
peasant  class,  in  brightest  of  colours. 

''  These  people  were  serfs  the  other  day,"  said  my 
companion,  in  reply  to  my  question,  "  all  of  those 
you  see,  with  a  few  exceptions ;  now  they  are  all 
free.  That  man,"  pointing  to  the  "  dandy  "  with  grey 
hair,  "  and  those  dressed  like  him,  had  probably  been 
permitted  by  their  masters  to  trade,  and  they  made  a 
good  thing  of  it." 


/ 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Tlie  Kitai  Gorod— The  Bazaars—Their  Great  Extent— The  Shop-keepers 
— Playing  at  Draughts— Commerce  in  "  the  Rows"-^ewish  Money- 
dealers— The  Balance  of  Trade— Drain  and  Hoarding  of  the  Pre- 
cious Metals— Exhaustion  produced  by  the  Crimean  War— Com- 
parative Value  of  Silver  and  Paper  Roubles— Prevalence  of  Forgery 
—Curiosities  of  Russian  Finance— Objections  to  War  on  the  Part 
of  Russia— Madness  of  the  War  Party  and  Fanaticism  of  the  Re- 
ligious Party— Questionable  Practices— Russia  and  her  Roman 
Catholic  Subjects. 

TMMEDIATELY  in  front  of  the  windows  at  the 
-*-  Hotel  Dusaux  was,  as  I  have  said  before,  across 
the  Boulevard  a  flight  of  steps  and  an  archway  in 
tlie  Kitai  Avail  by  which  foot-people  were  continually 
passing  at  all  hours  into  and  out  of  the  Kitai  Gorod. 
This  was  my  Avay  too,  for  it  was  a  resource  and  an 
amusement,  when  too  hot  for  much  walking,  to  cross 
the  sunny  Boulevard,  and  plunge  at  once  into  the 
narrow  and  shady  streets  of  the  Kitai.  At  the  far 
side  of  this,  and  near  the  Kremlin,  were  the  bazaars 
of  Moscow.    The  natives  called  these  the  Rows,  being 


i 


232 


THE  KITAI  GOROD. 


THE  ROWS. 


233 


i  K 


long  lines  of  narrow  straight  covered  ways.     How 
luxurious  it  was  on  these  sultry  and  glaring  days  of 
August  or  September  to  get  away  from  the  house  and 
the  dusty  Boulevard  and  the  blazing  sunsliine   into 
the  bazaars  !     From  the  hot   street,  where  droschky 
horses  stood  about  in  pink  linen  to  shade  them  from 
the  burning  rays  and  teazing  flies,  it  was  more  than  a 
solace  to  turn  suddenly  from  the  glare,  which  made 
your  eyes  ache,  into  the  gloom  of  the  bazaar.     How 
cool   and  refreshing  and   soothing  it  was!     Behind 
you  was  the  street,  looking  like  a  lighted  caldron, 
or  the  burning  fiery  furnace  into  which  Sliadrach  and 
his  companions  were  cast ;  and  before  you,  extending 
far  on  and  on,  the  extremity  invisible  or  only  glim- 
mering as  a  small  point  of  light,  was  the  long,  dim, 
cool,  silent  passage  or  row.     These  always  reminded 
me  of  the  straight  street  at  Damascus,  or  the  street  of 
the  cotton  and  linen  merchants  at  Cairo — so  quiet,  so 
grateful  to  every  sense,  were  they  in  their  dim  liglit 
and  their  repose.    There  was  this  difference,  however, 
that  in  the  Syrian  and  Eg}7)tian  bazaars   there  were 
donkeys  with  ladies  on  them,  as  in  the  days  of  the 

aliph  Haroun  Alraschid,  making  their  purchases  of 
the  pale  and  handsome  Eastern  merchants,  as  they  sat 
among  their  goods  in  the  shop  front,  or,  maybe,  car- 


i 


rying  on  a  little  quiet  love  affair  under  the  screen  of 
muslins  ;  while  here,  in  the  Moscow  bazaars,  were  no 
four-footed  animals  bearing  closely-veiled  Sultanas,  or 
British  ladies,   engaged  in  either  love  or  shopping. 
Here  all  were  on  foot.  These  rows  were  never  crowd- 
ed, for  they  were  of  such    extent— miles,  indeed,  of 
them — that  although  there  was  more  trade  carried 
on  in  them  than  in  all  the  rest  of  Moscow  put  to- 
gether, yet  such  was  their  extent,  that  the  numbers 
of  buyers  were  too  scattered  to  produce  any  crowd  at 
any  point.     This  absence  of  many  people  at  any  one 
point  aided  to  give  an  air  of  idleness  to  the  place. 
Their  breadth  varied.    Sometimes  they  were  fourteen 
or  fifteen  feet  across  from  shop  to  shop,  and  some- 
times  only   ten   or   twelve;    while  at  some   angles, 
where   were   cross   bazaars,    the   breadth   might   be 
nearer    twenty   feet.     All   were    paved   with   large 
smooth  flags,  and  were  roofed  in  at  some  fourteen  or 
fifteen  feet  from  the  ground,  the  shaded  light  let  in 
by  small  side  windows  in  the  roofs.     As  you  strolled 
leisurely  along,   the  owners  of  the  shops,  all  well- 
dressed   men,  in  the  unfailing  large   loose  Russian 
coat,  would  be  sitting  or  lounging  on  their  counters, 
or  on  the  shop  front  in  conversation,  or  often  enough 
seated  on  low  chairs  outside  the  shops  on  the  pave- 


\ 


234 


PLAYING  AT  DRAUGHTS. 


COMMERCE  IN  THE  ROWS. 


235 


\ 


H 


lU 


ment  with  a  small  table  or  stool  between  them  on 
which  was  a  draught-board. 

Two  often  would  be  playing  at  draughts,  while 
others  looked  on.  How  often  as  I  strolled  along  by 
these  men  thus  engaged  at  their  ease,  I  was  reminded 
of  the  Damascus  men  occupied  in  the  same  w^ay,  but 
at  chess  instead  of  draughts  !  Had  these  Moscow  sy- 
barites been  plapng  at  chess  I  could  never  have  re- 
sisted the  temptation  to  stop  and  watcli  them,  or  even 
to  sit  down  and  play  a  game.  The  place  and  the 
scene,  the  quiet  and  the  ease,  were  so  inviting.  If 
I  had  won  the  game,  how  natural  it  would  have 
been  to  buy  something  of  the  loser,  and  only  beat 
him  down  about  one  third  of  the  price  asked  for  the 
article,  instead  of  half;  and  if  I  had  lost,  to  fix  on 
something  good  in  the  shop,  and  try  to  balance  the 
matter  of  loss  and  gain  by  a  laughing  doggedness  of 
will  to  pay  much  less  than  half  the  price,  and  carry 
it  off.  But  the  Muscovites  did  not  play  chess,  though 
I  wandered  all  through  the  ba2:aars  in  search  of  a 
chess-player.  They  all  played  draughts,  but  no  chess 
— and  draughts  and  I  have  no  friendship. 

It  was  a  custom,  as  well  as  a  constant  amusement, 
to  make  purchases  of  these  men.  Nothing  could  be 
more  courteous  than  their  manner  of  inviting  your 


I- 


% 


\^ 


I" 


custom  as  you  stopped  a  moment  and  looked  at  their 
goods.     If  you  declined  and  passed  on,  they  thanked 
you — for   the  courtesy  of  stopping.     If  you  singled 
out  any  article,  or  inquired  for  one,  there  was  an  an- 
xiety to  offer  it,  and  the  most  studied  eai^erness  to 
please  you — and  then  began  the  combat  of  courtesy 
and  gain.     As  a  rule,  you  always  met  the  price  asked 
with  a  shake  of  the  head — a  mild  objection;  and  then 
this  being  the  first  blow,  others  followed ;   until  per- 
haps after   ten   minutes  of  conflict,  you  holdinf^  on 
steadily  to  your  offer,  and  the  man  abating  and  hesi- 
tating till  he  had  reached  the  point  below  which  he 
would  not  descend,  another  man,  perhaps  the  shop- 
owner,  would  come  forward  from  somewhere,  put  on 
a  hard  look,  and  carry  the  article  away  to  the  back 
of  the  shop,  as  if  to  put  it  away.     The  matter  was 
finished,  the  struggle  was  over — he  could  not  sell  it 
at  such  a  flagrant  loss — his  credit  was  concerned  in 
not  letting  it  go.    Then  you  would  put  on  a  hard  look 
too,  and  walk  away.     But  as  you  went  with  one  ear 
listening  backwards,  you   would   hear  a  call,  ''  You 
shall  have  it ;"  and  then  all  the   assumed  sullenness 
was  fled,  and  smiles  were  in  its  place,  and   you  se- 
cured your  prize — and  perhaps  commenced  another 
little  similar  joust.     This  was  the  way  and  custom  of 


A 


a 


•i! 


236 


JEWISH  MONEY-DEALERS. 


BALANCE  OF  TRADE. 


237 


fl 


f) 


commerce  in  ''  the  Rows."  Even  when  I  gained  my 
prize  for  less  than  half  the  original  demand,  I  was 
always  told  by  the  experienced  at  the  hotel  that  I 
had  ''  paid  dear  for  my  whistle."  There  are  a  great 
number  of  small  ornaments  of  native  Moscow  manu- 
facture, and  every  day  that  I  went  into  the  Rows 
there  was  always  something  fresh  to  tempt  the  rou- 
bles from  my  purse  ;  but  the  fault  of  this  system  pur- 
sued in  buying  and  selling  is  that  you  never  know  if 
you  are  paying  the  fair  value  of  any  article. 

One  day  strolling  through  these  shady  ways  as 
usual,  I  saw  two  or  three  men  with  piles  of  gold  and 
silver  coins  as  their  stock  in  trade.  Here  were  gold 
pieces  of  ten  roubles  and  five  roubles,  and  silver  ones 
of  a  rouble,  half  a  rouble,  a  quarter,  and  so  on.  On 
asking  my  companion,  an  Italian,  where  these  men 
had  these  coins  from,  as  there  were  none  in  general 
circulation,  he  said  in  a  laconic  way,  as  if  that  were 
a  complete  and  satisfactory  reply  to  any  question  on 
money,  "  These  men  are  all  Jews."  More  than  this 
my  companion  knew  nothing. 

On  applpng  to  an  Englishman  resident  in  Moscow, 
a  day  or  two  afterwards,  on  this  subject  of  gold  and 
silver,  and  observing  on  the  singularity  of  a  great 
country  such  as  Russia  having  no  gold  or  silver  in  com- 


mon  use,  but  only  factitious  copper  and  depreciated 
\rd\)Qr,  lie  said — ''  Our  money  condition  is  a  lamentable 
one  here ;  the  balance  of  trade  with  the  foreigner  is 
heavily  against  us,  and  so,  what  with  the  hoarding  by 
the  natives  of  all  silver  they  can  manage  to  obtain  and 
keep,  and   the  consumption  of  the  precious  metals 
in  payment  to  the  foreigner  of  the  interest  of  our  debt, 
and  the  further  payment  of  the  foreigner  for  articles  of 
import  beyond  what  our  exports  balance,  there  is  not 
much  silver  or  gold  left  for  general  use  in  the  country. 
You  see,"  he  went  on,  "  the  greater  part  of  Russian  ex- 
port is  of  bulky  articles,  raw  produce,  and  the  greater 
part  of  our  import  consists  of  manufactured  goods. 
One  ship-load  of  the  latter  coming  here  requires  a  good 
many  ship-loads  of  the  former  going  abroad  to  pay  for 
it,  and  as  the  Russian  wants  to  have  the  enjoyment  of 
all  the  articles  of  civilized  life — all  the  most  expensive 
things— he  finds  in  the  end  that  he  has  not  enough 
of  cheap  raw  produce  to  pay  for  the  dear  articles  of 
finished  skill,  without  paying  away  his  gold  and  silver 
besides.  This,  and  the  interest  of  the  national  loans  to 
Rothschild,  and  Hope,  and  so  on— some  of  the  heavy 
cost  of  the   Crimean   War — which,   of  course,  must 
be  paid  in  metals,  and  not  in  worthless  paper,  and  the 
hoarding   by   the   people,   utterly  exhaust  them,  or 


t 
t 


'X' 


M 


238 


RUSSIAN  FINANCE. 


FORGERY  OP  GOVERNMENT  PAPER. 


239 


1  - 


I  I  ! 


)l 


nearly  so.  In  fact,  if  we  did  not  issue  paper  we  should 
not  go  on  at  all.  We  are  like  the  Americans  witli 
their  greenbacks.  We  go  on  with  our  greenbacks 
here,  but  it  is  an  utterly  fictitious  condition  of  things."* 

*  Since  the  return  of  the  author  to  England  the  following  communi- 
cation has  been  made  to  him  in  writing  by  a  gentleman  in  London  well 
acquainted  with  the  subject : — 

''  The  facts  stated  respecting  the  present  condition  of  Russian  trade 
and  currency  are  luidoubtedly  correct,  but  the  causes  that  have  led  up 
to  this  condition  of  Russian  finances  are,  I  think,  only  partially  so.  It 
is  true  enough  no  doubt  that  for  years  past  Russia  has  imported  foreign 
goods  very  largely  in  excess  of  the  value  of  her  exports,  and  the  balance 
of  trade  thus  arising  has  in  the  usual  course  of  things  been  paid  by 
specie  remittances.  I  hardly  think,  however,  that  this  drain  on  her 
specie  resources  can  account  altogether  for  the  totiU  disappearance  of 
the  precious  metals  that  seems  to  have  taken  place.  I  believe  that  the 
greatest  cause  is  the  Crimean  >\'ar,  which  so  completely  and  utterly 
exhausted  Russia  in  her  resources  of  men  and  money  that  she  has  never 
been  able  to  recover  herself ;  and  it  is,  I  think,  the  opinion  of  those  who 
are  most  intimately  acquainted  with  such  subjects,  that  it  will  still  take 
years  for  the  country  to  right  itself  in  its  finances.  Russia  has,  how- 
ever, boundless  resources,  and  if  she  can  only  keep  at  peace,  and  also 
modify  her  late  extravagant  expenditure  in  unproductive  Government 
works,  there  can,  I  think,  be  no  doubt  that  the  development  of  her 
foreign  trade  will  gradually  put  her  on  her  legs  again.  The  Russians 
no  doubt  have  a  habit  of  hoarding  coinage  whenever  they  can,  and  this 
fact,  together  with  that  of  the  Government  making  no  fresh  issues, 
accounts  for  the  circulating  medium  being  so  entirely  paper,  llie 
Government  have  the  power  of  increasing  this  to  any  extent  they  please, 
and  a  too  abundant  issue  of  notes  of  course  sufficiently  accounts  for  the 
depreciation  of  this  medium." 

It  would  appear  from  the  above  that  tliere  is  scarcely  an  appreciable 
difference  in  the  opinions  held  at  Moscow  and  in  Ix>ndon  as  to  the 
condition  of  the  finances  of  Russia  and  of  the  causes  of  this,  while  the 
views  of  well  informed  persons  in  both  cities  as  to  the  disastrous  effects 
on  her  financial  prospects  of  a  foreign  war  are  identical. 


i 


I  observed  that  on  purchasing  a  silver  rouble  in  the 
bazaar,  as  a  test  of  the  relative  value  of  the  silver  and 
the  paper,  I  had  been  obliged  to  pay  a  paper  rouble 
and  seven-pence  English  besides  as  the  price  of  a 
silver  rouble — a  lieavy  depreciation  of  the  Govern- 
ment paper,  equal  to  more  than  one-sLxth  ;  for  if  you 
take  tlie  silver  rouble  to  represent  three  shillings,  the 
paper  rouble  thus  represents  rather  less  than  half  a 
crown. 

'^  And  this,''  said  my  companion,  "  does  not  tell 
the  whole  malady.  We  have  forgery  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, a  constant  forgery  of  the  Government  paper; 
and  this  is  almost  winked  at  by  the  Government." 

"  Winked  at  by  the  Government !"  said  I,  in  as- 
tonishment, and  for  a  moment  the  idea  ran  through 
my  mind  of*  England  in  the  condition  of  having  no 
sovereigns  or  shillings  or  half  crowns  in  general  cir- 
culation, but  only  paper  and  halfpence,  and  our  five- 
pound  notes  depreciated,  and  passing  at  about  four 
pounds  five  shillings  each ;  and  these  only  in  Great 
Britain,  and  worth  much  less  at  Paris  and  refused  in 
payment  except  as  a  favour. 

"  I  will  tell  you  a  story,"  said  my  companion.  ''  and 
you  shall  judge  for  yourself  There  is  a  large  Go- 
vernment  office,  or   bank,   here  in  Moscow,    where 


M 


-1 


A 


■f-:- 


240 


STORY  OF  A  FORGED  NOTE. 


MONEY  MATTERS  IN  RUSSIA. 


241 


1 
I' 


11 


j 


H'4^"i 


money  is  paid  out  to  the  officials,  and  where  the 
taxes  are  paid  in.  An  acquaintance  assured  me  only 
the  other  day  that  he  had  occasion  to  receive  a  sum 
of  money  from  the  Government,  and  accordingly  he 
went  to  this  office  and  presented  liis  written  demand 
for  the  sum  due.  He  received  it  in  paper  roubles,  of 
course.  As  he  had  to  pay  in  some  taxes  he  went  to 
another  department  in  the  same  building,  and  offered 
in  payment  some  of  the  paper  he  had  that  moment 
received  from  the  Government  cashier.  The  receiver 
of  taxes  examined  all  the  rouble  notes  carefully,  and 
among  them,  to  the  astonishment  of  my  friend,  he  ob- 
jected to  receiving  one,  as  it  w^as  a  forger}^  'But,' 
said  my  friend,  '  that  cannot  be,  because  I  have  only 
this  instant  received  these  roubles  at  the  cashier's 
office  in  this  building.'  Still  the  man  objected.  'The 
note  is  forged,  and  I  cannot  receive  it ;  I  know  no- 
thing of  where  you  obtained  it.'  My  friend  paid  his 
taxes,  and  then  returned  to  the  cashier  from  whom 
he  had  received  the  forged  note.  Presenting  it  to  hhn, 
he  said,  '  This  is  a  forged  note  which  you  gave  me 
just  now,  please  to  give  me  another.'  '  What  do  I 
know  about  forged  notes  ?'  replied  the  cashier  ;  '  we 
have  no  forged  notes  here.'  But  my  friend  in- 
sisted—' You  paid  me  those  notes  half  an  hour  since, 


and  when  I  offered  them  to  the  receiver  of  taxes  in 
the  next  corridor,  he  refused  this  one  as  a  forgery. 
Of  course  it  is  a  mistake  on  your  part.'  '  I  know  no- 
thing of  forged  notes,'  said  the  cashier ;  '  we  make  no 
mistakes.  You  must  have  made  the  mistake  and  got 
it  from  some  one  else.'  And  so  the  cashier  closed  the 
door  of  his  cais^se,  and  the  discussion." 

"And  what,"  said  I,  "did  your  friend  do  with  his 
forged  note  ?     For  what  sum  was  it  ?" 

"  It  was  a  fifty  rouble  note.  Well,  he  took  it  to 
his  own  banker,  and  told  his  story.  '  What  can  I  do 
with  it  ?'  said  he  to  the  banker.  The  reply  was  very 
curious.  The  banker  called  up  one  of  his  senior 
clerks  and  showed  him  the  note.  '  WTiat  is  it  worth  ?' 
said  he  to  his  clerk.  '  It  is  worth  forty-five  roubles,' 
said  the  clerk;  and  so  my  friend  parted  with  his 
forged  note  at  a  loss  of  five  roubles." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  how  could  the  banker  afford  to 
pay  so  much  for  the  note,  and  how  could  it  serve  him 
to  purchase  it  at  all  ?" 

My  acquaintance  laughed. 

"  There  are  very  curious  things  take  place,"  said  he, 
"in  money  matters  in  this  country.  The  banker's 
clerk  has  told  me  since  that  he  would  much  rather 
have  anyone  bring  forged  notes  to  him  as  a  matter  of 

B 


I 


(1 


M 


242 


IMPOLICY  OF  WAR. 


business,  than  good  ones,  because  there  is  more  money 
to  be  made  of  these  in  disposing  of  them  than  there 
is  in  the  usual  way  of  money  business." 

Certainly,  when  one  considers  these  two  little  facts 
connected  with  the  Government  bank  at  Moscow  and 
the  private  bankers,  my  companion  might  well  smile 
and  say,  "  There  are  very  curious  things  done  in  mo- 
ney matters  in  Moscow." 

In  connection  with  the  subject  of  money  I  may  re- 
late' the  following  : — A  party  of  gentlemen  one  day 
had  been  talking  of  the  financial  condition  of  Russia, 
and  the  conversation  turned  on  the  rumours  of  her 
again  urging  on  Turkey  reforms  in  respect  of  the 
Christians  in  the  East,  even  to  the  extent  of  threats. 
"-  War !"  exclaimed  one  gentleman,  "•  what  have  we 
to  do  with  war  now  ?  We  want  peace — that  is  what 
we  want,  to  carry  out  our  internal  changes,  and  get 
the  country  into  some  kind  of  order.  We  are  all  a 
tort  et  a  traver.^ — at  sixes  and  sevens — about  our  mo- 
ney matters,  our  law,  our  regulations  about  land  and 
wages,  and  all  this  requires  peace.  Why,  we  have 
no  money  for  war."  I  observed  that  it  appeared  to 
foreigners  they  had  plenty  of  work  at  home  to  oc- 
cupy the  Government  in  arranging  all  these  internal 
matters  without  a  foreign  war.     "  We  do  not  want 


PEACE  INDISPENSABLE. 


243 


war,  and  we  cannot  aiford  war  now,"  was  the  reply. 
**  How  can  we  go  into  an  expensive  war  without  mo- 
ney ?  Look  at  our  financial  condition — look  at  our 
circulation,  mere  paper,  bad  paper,  and  copper — no 
gold  and  no  silver,  and  everything  in  a  state  of  poli- 
tical change  in  the  country.  It  would  be  like  mad- 
ness to  go  into  a  war."  I  observed  that  they  always 
had  a  little  war  going  on  to  keep  their  hands  in  to- 
wards India  in  the  far  East.  ''  Ah  !  that  is  quite  an- 
other thing,"  was  the  rejoinder  ;  ''it  does  not  cost  so 
much  to  keep  up  a  few  troops  out  there,  and  beat 
those  half-barbarian  peoples,  and  make  them  pay  as 
we  go  on  for  being  beaten — that  is  one  thing,  but  it 
is  another  to  enter  upon  an  immense  war  with  the 
great  powers  of  Europe,  who  have  enormous  armies 
and  navies  and  unlimited  wealth  in  money  and  re- 
sources, while  we  are  impoverished,  and  have  not 
half  recovered  from  the  last  war.  No,  no  ;  we  have 
a  war-party,  of  course,  who  look  at  everything  through 
that  medium,  but  who  are  bad  politicians ;  and  we 
have  a  fanatical  party  in  religion,  who  are  worse  than 
the  others,  and  who  are  madmen  in  politics.  No, 
no  ;  let  us  liave  peace,  and  get  things  into  order  at 
liome,  and  not  break  treaties  and  set  all  the  world 
against  us,  and  make  another  failure  into  the  bargain." 

R  2 


I 


J 


^ 


\^ 


r" 


#4' 


244 


UNDIGNIFIED  CONDUCT  OF  RUSSIA. 


245 


1. 


f 


-     I 


It  need  only  be  added  that  we  have  lately  seen 
the  war  party  and  the  religious  party  push  on  the 
Russian  Government  to  the  very  verge  of  war  with 
the  Turks,  and  then,  when  the  Government  found  it- 
self in  the  presence  of  resisting  Turkey  and  of  disap- 
proving France  and  England  and  Austria,  stop  short 
of  the  last  resort,  and  listen  to  the  voice  of  prudence 
of  her  best  political  friends  at  home,  and  mark  the 
threatening  state  of  her  finances,  and  make  a  rather 
undignified  retreat  from  her  menacing  position  behind 
angry  demands  and  pompous  advice.  It  is  scarcely 
worthy  of  a  great  power  like  Russia  to  resort  to  such 
questionable  practices  as  those  in  Greece  and  Crete. 
What  would  she  say  to  any  Roman  Catholic  power 
which  should  act  towards  her  own  subjects  of  that 
faith  in  Poland  and  Russia  on  account  of  religion  as 
she  does  not  hesitate  to  do  towards  Turkey  in  regard 
of  the  subjects  of  that  power  of  the  Greek  faith  on 
account  of  their  religion  ?  So  long  as  Russia  treats 
her  own  Roman  Catholic  subjects  with  such  intoler- 
ance. Christians  as  they  are,  she  can  hardly  expect 
much  credit  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  for  religious  and 
Christian  objects  in  her  conduct  towards  Turkey. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Visit  to  Nijni  Novgorod — Travelling  in  Russia  in  Old  Times — Carriages 
on  Russian  Railways — Persistent  Smokers — The  Passion  for  Tea — 
Convenient  Arrangement — My  First  Impression  of  Nijni — Peculi- 
arities of  the  Fair — Affluence  of  Foreign  Merchants — The  Chinese 
Row  —Life  of  the  Merchants  during  the  Fair — Roads  in  Russia. — 
Cossacks — Magnificent  View  from  the  Plateau — Vessels  in  the 
River — Former  Imjx)rtance  of  Nijni — Curious  Story  relating  to  the 
Sacred  Bell  of  Nijni — En  G argon  at  the  Fair — A  Russian  recherche 
Dinner— Visit  to  the  Landlord's  Fish -Wells— The  Tea-Stores— 
Shops  and  Shopping — A  Yomig  Noble  and  his  Wife — Decline  of 
Nijni. 

A  NY  one  going  to  Moscow  would  be  considered  as 
■^  ^  leaving  a  prime  part  of  his  Russian  visit  unpaid 
if  he  omitted  Nijni  Novgorod.  In  the  old  days,  how- 
ever— which  means  only  thirty  years  since — a  visit  to 
Nijni  was  a  very  serious  matter. 

All  travelling  in  Russia  required  something  more 
tlian  a  mere  fancy  to  see  any  given  place ;  it  required 
a  strong  desire  in  the  making  of  the  preparations,  and 
a  strong  will  to  carry  them  to  a  conclusion.  Two  or 
three  hundred  miles  of  journeying  on  roads  which 


%  ■ 


246 


VISIT  TO  NIJNI  NOVGOROD. 


I 


f 


'     't 


5     ? 


were  only  tracks,  in  carriages  without  springs,  and, 
when  stopping  for  what  should  be  rest,  finding  inns 
where  was  an  unfurnished  room  and  a  hard  bedstead 
for  the  weary  man,  but  no  bedding  beyond  what  he 
took  with  him ;  all  these  were  troubles  which  a  man 
did  not  face  without  an  effort. 

Thus  the  journey  from  Moscow  to  Nijni  was  a  mat- 
ter not  lightly  to  be  undertaken.  The  getting  there 
was  one  thing,  and  then  the  getting  back  again  was 
another.  It  was  very  easy  to  say,  "  Go  to  Nijni,"  but 
the  going  was  not  easy  at  all.  But  now  the  day  of 
these  things  is  past  and  gone.  My  acquaintances  fre- 
quently put  to  me  this  question,  "  Of  course  you  will 
go  to  Nijni?  There  is  a  railway — it  takes  only  twelve 
hours." 

Besides  this,  our  consul  was  kind  enough  to  aid  my 
visit  to  Nijni  by  an  offer  to  give  me  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction to  an  English  gentleman  there,  a  merchant. 
This  was  an  incentive  the  more,  so  one  night  I  put  my- 
self on  the  railway  for  the  celebrated  place  of  Eastern 

trade. 

The  Consul  had,  moreover,  given  me  this  opinion  : 
"  If  you  have  no  particular  object  of  inquiry  to  make 
at  Nijni — one  which  will  occupy  some  days ;  if  you 
are  only  going  there  to  see  the  fair,   for  a  cursory 


.  I 


JOURNEY  BY  RAILWAY. 


247 


visit,  the  best  plan  is  to  start  from  here  by  the  night 
train,  which  is  the  best — all  the  merchants  go  by  it — 
you  will  be  at  Nijni  in  the  morning.  Pass  the  day 
there,  and  return  by  the  night  train.  You  will  save 
yourself  much  discomfort  and  a  bad  bed  by  this  ar- 
rangement." 

At  ten  o'clock  one  night  I  started  for  Nijni.  No- 
thing could  be  better  than  the  carriage,  fitted  up  as 
the  Russian  carriages  are  with  arm-chairs  arranged 
singly  or  in  pairs  about  its  long  extent.  There  were 
seventeen  armchairs.  The  entrances  are  at  the  two 
extremities  of  the  long  car,  which  is  much  warmer  by 
this  arrangement.  There  is  an  anteroom,  too,  at  each 
end,  which  adds  to  the  warmth,  a  necessary  thing  in 
the  winters  of  that  severe  climate.  The  country  ap- 
peared to  be  of  the  same  character  as  that  round  Mos- 
cow, waving,  and  with  woods  scattered  all  over  it.  The 
only  objectionable  circumstance  of  the  journey  was  that 
some  of  my  companions — the  car  was  about  half  full 
— smoked  at  intervals  all  through  the  night.  A 
gentleman  and  lady  occupied  chairs  at  my  end,  and 
these  two  lit  their  cigars  (the  lady  a  cigarette,  of 
course)  at  once.  After  smoking  one  or  two  each 
they  arranged  themselves  with  pillows  for  the  night, 
and  went  to  sleep. 


I 


I 


hIi 


i       i 


248 


SMOKING  IN  THE  TRAIN. 


I  have  no  very  great  objection  to  a  cigar  in   a  rail- 
way carriage,  tliouglmot  now  a  smoker  myself;  but 
still  there  is  a  limitation  to  this  negative  liking.     At 
about  one  in  the  morning  the  lady— she  was  a  small 
person  of  the  Sclave  type  of  prettiness,  white  skin, 
dark  sleepy  eyes,  rather  full  lips,  high  cheek  bones, 
and  a  soft  undulating  figure— she  awoke,  and  rousinrr 
herself  from  a  combination  of  white  pillow  and  red 
woollen  shawl  and  coquettish  red  and  black  close- 
fitting    cap  and   a  framework  to  her  face  of  white 
cambric,  to  my  surprise  she  applied  to  licr  gentleman 
for  a  cigarette.     He  was  a  German,  to  judge  by  his 
looks,  young  and  with  a  well-bred  manner.     Tiiey 
had  a  cigar  in  company,  and  then  slept  again.     At 
dawn  the  same  thing  happened.     After  an  early  cup 
of  tea  at  a  station  they  smoked  steadily  all  the  way  to 
Nijni,  which  we  reached  at  ten.     I  thought  this  pretty 
fair  work  for  a  young  lady. 

As  a  specimen  of  the  passion  for  tea  in  Russia,  one  of 
my  fellow-travellers  performed  a  considerable  feat  in 
the  consumption  of  this  article.  Inside  each  window  of 
the  railway  carriage  there  is  a  small  arrangement  which 
is  very  convenient.  This  is  a  flap  of  wood  in  the  form 
of  a  half  circle  which  plays  on  hinges.  When  unused  and 
let  down  it  lies  flat  against  the  side  of  the  carriage,  and 


II 


TEA-DRINKING. 


249 


when  wanted  it  is  raised  and  forms  a  small  table.     On 
this  ladies  place  their  work,  or  a  book.     My  opposite 
neighbour,  a  middle-aged  gentleuian,  at  one  station 
ordered  tea.     This  was  put  in  through  the  window, 
a  small  tray  with  cup  and  saucer,  a  small  porcelain  tea- 
pot filled  with  odoriferous  tea,  and  a  large  one  hold- 
ing, perhaps,  three  pints  of  boihng  water.     This  was 
placed  on  the  small  table  between  him  and  me,  with 
many  expressions  of  courtesy  on  his  part  and  wishes 
that  I  might  not  be  inconvenienced  thereby.  ''Of  course 
I  was  not  incommoded."     The  train  started  and  my 
neighbour  began  his  tea.     He  soon  emptied  the  teapot, 
and  then  he  replenished  it  from  the  large  pot  of  water, 
for  hardly  did  he  finish  off  one  cup  before  he  poured 
out  another.     I  never  saw  a  man  so  happy  and  so 
jealous  of  his  tea.     No  old  cottager  in  the  dear  old 
country  parish  of  my  boyhood— and  there  were  some 
very  severe  performers  in  that  line  in  our  parish— and 
no  middle-aged  or  youthful  dame  ravenous  for  her  tea 
at  five  in  the  afternoon— that  new  and  beautiful  insti- 
tution of  the  present  age — ever  was  more  intent  on 
her  cup  as  the  dark  stained  liquid  rose  higher  and 
higher  in  the  small  pink  and  green  porcelain  bowl,  or 
more  greedy  of  every  drop  of  it,  than  was  my  neigh- 
bour as  he  watched  the  flow  of  the  perfumed  stream 


{  1 


«       I 


•  I 


:/.. 


\i 


^     \ 


\    t 


250 


ARRIVAL  AT  NIJNI. 


v: 


<^s 


.  1    ' 


from  the  small  spout.  And  then  how  he  held  back 
his  head  and  drained  it  to  the  dregs  !  By  degrees  the 
large  pot  naturally  became  light,  the  teapot  did  the 
same,  and  as  we  drew  up  to  another  station,  so  vigor- 
ously had  the  gentleman  applied  himself  to  his  work, 
that  nothing  ruiuamed  but  emptiness;  :i  i  my  nei^^h- 
bour  i;  uiissed  the  whole  little  a|jpuKtiu;5  iliiuu-h  the 
s  !  in -.  '  took  himself  to  his  b!i;;  Jj- r^  wiih 
like  r  11!     *  ^s  often  u:  1  t  hi^  u.iistcoat. 

We  T-n  '  i  NHni  at  ten  on  the  foil,  wi  inr  morninrr. 
There  I  foii  :  !  i  consirlorible  station  suppli.  1  with  all 
requisites  eithor  for  bronkfi^t  nv  -Tinner,  f  f  ivin^  dis- 
tu^^LiI  liiu  iuiiner  i  imi  myself  into  the  hands  of  a 
drosciiivj  Liiv.  i  Willi  the  udaress  of  the  English  mer- 
chant. ''  M . .  P  — "  said  he,  as  I  named  the  gentleman 
hi  question;  '  !  Ri  w  him,  he  lives  in  the  Cluuesc 
};  w/'     "^    we  started  for  the  Chinese  Row. 

li  iia  1  !'.'!.  I  .*  weather  for  the  last  fow  days,  so 
wp  tlvnyo  t^irnii  tTi  much  mud  and  by  various  streets  of 
w  iter  to  tho  Chinese  Row.  .Ni^ni  under  the  circum- 
stances wao  liut  prepossessing.  From  meagre  accounts 
i  nad  imagined  .le  fair  at  Nijni  to  be  in  a  degree  like 
other  fairs;  a  Miccession  of  streets  of  booths  aiid  cover- 
ed arcades  extending  over  a  large  space  of  ground  at 
the  edge  of  the  town.     But  I  found  none  of  these 


THE   TWO   TOWNS. 


251 


things.  There  is  a  small  town  of  Nijni  lying  along  the 
south  bank  of  the  Volga,  partly  along  the  level  shore 
and  partly  climbing  up  the  steep  bank  or  hill  be- 
yond it,  and  surrounded  by  the  Castle,  Citadel,  and 
Cathedral,  and  other  large  buildings.  Opposite  this, 
across  the  river,  is  another  town,  the  X;  i  of  the 
fair.  The  first  is  o:'  -■'']'';;irv  .d}  !dr-di:i  t,  .wn  <■^],.i^- 
manent  brick  nnl  stone  habitatinn^,  Tn  .en]].!  *.  i 
place  consisting  of  bazaars  an^l  nndles=^  irwc  nf  1  rv\ 
wooden  one-storey  buildings  ot  aiiauHnTid  kn  h  of 
architecture,  Muscovite,  Armenian,  TuvKiMi,  Idimese, 
Tartar,  occupied  for  the  time  of  the  fair,  aud  lui  a 
<^nly,  by  the  people  of  the  different  countries,  ..  d 
bazaar  by  its  own  people.  By  these  m  i  -  \  1  ahw  w 
kind  of  merchandise  a  merchant  may  want,  he  kn  ws 
exactly  where  to  go  in  search  of  it.  This  town  of 
bazaars  is  only  alive  during  the  period  of  the  fair,  d!  wt 
two  months,  when  it  is  filled  to  overflowin 


I. 


mass  of  people  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  <  inn 


-1- 


UL-i^Uil: 


varying  from  three  to  four  hundred  thousand  y 
The  fair  over,  the  whole  of  them  depart;  iliv  lows 
are  locked  up,  the  mosque  and  church  are  closed,  the 
houses  are  swept  clear  of  all  furniture,  bare  walls  alone 
remain,  the  folks  of  Nijni  go  back  over  the  river,  and 
the  place  is  dead  and  shut  up.     Then  it  is  a  place  of 


\: 


iff 


I  < 


1 


111 


i  1 


252 


THE  CHINESE  ROW. 


silence  and  loneliness  for  nine  or  ten  months,  during 
the  long  winter  and  spring,  until  the  summer  and  tlie 
fair  arriving  together  wake  it  again  into  a  temporary 
and  spasmodic  life. 

^^  ^'"  ^-  the  English  merchant  fron.  31  .scow,  had 
his  temporary  residence  in  the  Chinese  Row.  '!  iiese 
rows  are  wide  open  streets,  bordered  by  low  houses, 
with  a  covered  area  running  along  the  whole  len^-nh 
of  the  street  on  either  side.  By  this  arrangement 
people  walk  about  tlie  place  under  shelter  from  sun 
or  rain,  by  no  means  a  superfluous  protection,  con- 
sidering that  we  were  then  under  the  malign  in- 
fluence of  much  rain  and  high  winds.  This  row  of 
houses  was  built  in  a  Chinese  style,  with  deep  pro- 
jecting roofs,  and  the  corners  of  these  turned  up  and 
ornamented  each  wdth  a  yellow  bell— small,  low,  sub- 
stantial houses. 

Entering  a  kind  of  warehouse  where  much  active 
packing  of  goods  was  going  on,  I  was  directed  to  a 
flight  of  newly-built  wooden  stairs  in  a  corner,  and  on 
mounting  these  to  an  upper  open  warehouse,  I  was 
directed  to  a  door.      U  ithin  this  were  two  small  rooms 

or  closets,  the  sanctum  and  dwelling  of  Mr.  P 

the  rich  merchant,  during  the  fair.     This  is  the  custom 
of  the  place.     A  merchant  rents  for  the  two  months 


0 

I 


MR.  P- 


S  APARTMENT. 


253 


one  of  these  houses,  bare  walls  below  and  bare  rooms 
above.  Here  lie  comes  en  garqon^  brings  with  him  a 
few  articles  of  furniture,  fits  up  his  two  closets  for  the 
nonce,  transacts  his  business,  sleeps  in  this  domicile, 
and,  as  he  is  allowed  to  light  no  fire  in  these  wooden 
buildings,  lives  at  some  eating-house  with  the  mer- 
chant world.  It  is  a  life  thoroughly  commercial,  un- 
domestic,  and  republican. 

Nothing  could  be  neater  or  fresher  than  the   small 

apartment  oi  Mv.  P ,  with  its  sofa,   its  tables,  its 

easy-chairs,  and  its  inner  dormitory  belongings.  All 
tliese  had  come  down  from  Moscow.  Mr.  P  - —  at 
once  in  the  most  obliging  manner  placed  himself  niid 
his  time  at  my  disposal,  i  i  had  arrived  but  the  day 
before  at  Xijni,  and  this  first  day  he  would  devote  to 
me  and  idleness.  AVhat  could  be  more  gracefully 
polite  ?  First  he  led  me  through  some  of  the  rows, 
of  the  Armenians,  of  Persians,  and  the  men  of  the 
Caucasus.  Nothing  could  be  neater  or  more 
orderly.  A  covered  way  or  verandah  ran  along  the 
whole  side  of  the  row  or  street,  and  in  their  several 
door- ways,  in  twos  and  threes,  sat  or  lounged  the  men 
from  the  distant  East,  men  with  the  sharp  pale  face 
of  the  Armenian,  the  dark  rich  complexion  of  the 
Persian,  the  bronzed  and  high  features  of  the   Cau- 


\   I 

1  ! 


w  \ 


p 


( I 


il  'I 


k 


¥^. 


II 

■I 


t      i 


1  ^ 


254 


COSSACKS. 


casian,  the  two  former  in  their  long  blue  cloth  robes, 
and  the  latter  always  in  grey.  All  these  arcades  were 
neatly  paved  with  brick.  Street  after  street  we  passed 
in  this  way,  each  arcade  alive  with  moving  figures  of 
men  and  women,  and  each  row  showing  us  fresh  cos- 
tumes 1  i  i  iff  Tent  goods.  Nothing  coull  ]m  i-iore 
picturesque  ui  iuore  neatly  nn-anged.  ^nvc^  ;i;;  i  oxm^t 
that  the  ruuJway  of  forty  or  liiiy  ieci  in.  ^i-lih  wu^  imt 
a  muddy  wwa  k  u  ni  one  line  of  aivaLiL-  aciu^-  Ui  the 
other.  Tiu  ka  aa  no  care  for  r  !  I  .  von  up  to  the 
gates  of  "^T  -  v  ;  law  tla  ]s  should  she  care  a  hem 
at  a  temporaia-  a-a^e  lil<- 'a- nai- ■  >rxna;  "   I^r,  ^^.likies 


nn-l 


f^;i  ri'iML^a-, 


telega 


.1    tn 


"IT'M  1 


-asses, 


,1 


along 


these  trn<-ks,  getting  through  the  soft  deep  soil  as  well 
as  they  could,  li  casionally  a  smnll  pnrty  of  Cossnfk^, 
five  or  six,  in  loose  order,  in  their  long  grey  coats 
and  peaked  caps,  and  mounted  aloft  on  their  high 
saddles  far  above  their  low  wiry  horses,  went  by. 
Their  enormously  long  lances,  with  bare  steel  polished 
pike-heads,  had  a  most  truculent  and  business-like 
look.  They  were  small  men,  fair,  an<1  with  sharp 
features,  i  aese  were  the  police  of  the  fair.  As  I 
looked  at  them,  the  first  T  had  seen,  there  rose  up  be- 
fore the  mind  s  eye  scenes  in  which  these  little  men 
had  played  a  fierce  and  unrelenting  part  with  a  a  latal 


tat 


FLOATING    BRIDGE. 


255 


1.M..7 

i  t  i  ;  t  5   i  » 


lance — scenes  in  which  the  unhappy  French,  on  their 
retreat  from  Moscow,  had  learned  to  look  on  them  as 
wolves  of  the  forest,  as  men  who  gave  no  quarter  to 
tlieir  crippled  foe — and  then  other  scenes,  in  which 
Gogol  paints  them,  in  '' T  ass  Boulba,"  commg  up 
from  their  Vetch  on  the  Dnieper  in  thousaal.  ai  1 1 
ing  n^  n  flestroying  spirit  of  avil  a\ri  lis 
burning  and  i  \^astating  village  uu^l  ^irii  ; 
advanced,  leaving  but  a  desert  beli  a  !  thon], 
these  wolves  of  the  forest  were  subdued 
to  act  as  police  at  a  fair. 

^^  got  into  a  Iroschky  aa]  crossed 
a  wooden  floating  bridge,  supported  on  I 
in  the  stream.  Wnat  a  ci  a  ^  -fii  aa 
bridge  seemed  to  be  nearly  linlf  n  mile  in  length,  and 
the  breadth  was  immense  to  allow  oi  li  aaaonQina- 
and  multitudinous  traffic   on   it.     1 


\' 


■  I  1   .  I    ! 


'Ax. 


i      i      S      V        i 


es  moo 


d 
e 


i  i 


wny 


ii 


across  there  appeared  to  be  endless  establisLni 
spacious  floating  houses  on  the  below  t  idla 
stretching  away  far  do^vn  the  stream.  Many  of  these 
were  the  tenements  of  the  fishmongers,  who  kept  iai 
deep  capacious  wells  the  royal  sturgeon  and  the  lus- 
cious sterlet,  princes  among  fish,  for  the  luxurious 
gourmands  among  the  merchants  at  the  fair. 

Driving  over  the  bridge,  my  companion  and  I  found 


"^.^ 


li 


n 


I':    ! 


I  *   ^ 


n 


I  yl. 


i     'I 


256 


POSITION  OF  NIJNI. 


ourselves  in  an  ordinary,  ill -paved,  dirty  town.  We 
soon  left  the  street  and  mounted  the  hill,  a  long  steep 
winding  road,  to  the  citadel,  and  passing  this  came 
out  on  a  plateau  commanding  a  noble  bit  of  scenery. 
The  hill  sloped  down  rapidly  with  an  unbroken  in- 
cline to  the  river.  The  position  is  singularly  fine, 
for  the  town  stands  at  the  extremity  of  a  river-en- 
circled tongue  or  tract  of  lofty  table-land  coming  up 
from  the  south ;  and  the  citadel  on  the  summit  looks 
over  a  wide  extent  of  lower  country  waving  or  level 
to  the  north  and  east  and  west  beyond  the  stream. 
From  the  plateau  the  course  of  the  Volga  and  its 
junction  with  the  Ocka,  and  all  the  far  champaign 
dotted  with  villages  and  churches,  lay  beneath  the 
eye.  The  plateau  was  prettily  laid  out  with  shaded 
walks  and  bosquets,  and  there  were  pavilions  and 
restaurants  with  creature  comforts  for  the  practical 
man. 

Lying  off  the  town  both  above  and  below  the 
bridge  were  a  countless  number  of  vessels  of  all 
kinds,  from  the  common  boat  of  the  native  and  the 
huge  unwieldy  craft  laden  high  with  hay  and  wood, 
the  Russian  colours  at  the  mast-head,  to  the  various 
barges  of  primitive  construction  of  the  dwellers  on 
the  banks  who  had  sent  their  goods  on  board  to  the 


r^ 


f 


SACRED  BELL  OF  NIJNI. 


257 


fair,  and  the  neat  long  flat-sided  screw  steamers  of 
the  many  steamboat  companies  which  trade  between 
Nijni  and  Astracan,  the  union  jack  flying  at  the 
stern.  Here  in  this  far  country  how  companionable 
and  hearty  looked  the  universal  flag!  Across  the 
bridge  and  on  the  tongue  of  land  which  is  formed  by 
the  junction  of  the  Ocka  and  the  Volga,  was  the  fair, 
its  long  low  lines  of  bazaars  extending  far  and  wi(Je 
over  the  intervening  space. 

In  the  earlier  times  of  Russia,  in  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, Nijni  was  the  capital  of  a  section  of  the  country, 
and  its  fine  position  on  a  lofty  hill  over  the  Volga 
must  have  given  it  a  considerable  strength  and  influ- 
ence. Situated  at  the  junction  of  two  large  rivers  it 
ruled  over  the  people  on  their  banks  for  a  wide  dis- 
tance, and  its  sovereign  held  in  his  hands  the  t  n- 
of  the  mighty  stream. 

A.,  w  i  .-luud  there  enjoying  the  fine  scenery,  the  bells 
from  the  church  tower  in  the  citadel,  near  the  wall  of 
which  we  were  standing,  rang  out  their  musicnl  ponl. 
"There  is  a  curious  story  connected  with  iliai 
church,"  said  my  companion.  "There  is  one  bell 
in  the  tower  which  is  the  sacred  bell  of  Nijni.  I: 
happened  one  day  that  I  came  up  1  ^  r-  \  '  ].  t^o 
"F^nglish  gentlemen  to  see  the  citadel.     After  w    ^:- 


;Ah^i. 


' 


I' 


'\ 


I 


;  ■»    ! 


258 


CURIOUS   STORY. 


seen  the  other  buildings  we  went  into  the  church  and 
up  mto  the  bell-tower.  Now  here  was  an  ancient 
wooden  clock  of  curious  construction,  and  one  of  the 
gentlemen  wishing  to  examine  the  works  the  keeper 
of  the  tower  set  off  down  the  turret  to  get  the  key  of 
the  clock.  \\  hile  he  was  gone  one  of  the  gentlemen 
began  to  move  the  clapper  of  the  big  bell — the  sacred 
bell,  saying,  '  I  should  like  to  hear  the  tone  of  the 
Kijni  bell.'  1\  dint  of  swinging  the  great  clapper  at 
last  he  struck  the  side  whh  it,  and  one  immense  deep 

clani]j  boomed  out.     Mr.  P •  said  he  had  not  been 

attending  to  wliat  his  friends  were  doing,  but  hearing 
the  stroke  lie  du^iicl  at  the  rope  just  in  time  U^  vvo- 
vent  the  counter  swing  of  the  clapper.  But  the  mis- 
chief was  done.  In  a  minute  the  tower-keeper  rushed 
up  in  haste  and   exclaimed,   ^  Who  rung  the  bell  ?' 

Mr.  P told  liim  how  it  had  happened.     '  It  is  a 

misfortune,'  said  the  man — ^  a  great  misfortune.' 
Tiier!  -nil only  the  papa  appeared  breathless  in  the 
belfry,  all  pnlo  nnd  alarmed — *  Who  rung  the  bell? — 

uiiu  d.uLd  lu  ring  it?'     Mr.  V explninrMl  liow  it 

had  occurred.  '  Get  down  quickl},'  he  exclaimed, 
'  aT;  of  you,  as  fast  as  you  can.  h  i-  a  great  crime 
you  have  committed — the  people  will  be  here  in  a 
few  minutes,  and  if  they  find  you  here  you  will  be  in 


FORTUNATE  ESCAPE. 


259 


danger  of  your  lives— quick !   quick  1'     As   they  ran 

down    he    explained,    'That   bell   is   never    runir 

never,  except  to  warn  the  town  that  the  church  is  on 
fire,  or  that  help  is  wanted  in  the  citadel  for  some- 
tliing  political  or  serious.'  So  down  they  hurri  1. 
found  tlie  carriage  at  the  door  and  jumped  in.  At 
first  there  was  no  one  in  sight,  niHl  th*  \  <]rny,.  .]  v.n 
the  hill  rapidly;  but  presently  they  snn-  Tvnpir  i-, 
twos  and  threes  hurrying  up;  ami  lu^n  linx  w.  m 
slowly  to  avoid  suspicion.  As  they  met  the  p.  upiu 
they  were  all  in  a  high  state  of  excitement.  '  Vsh^i 
has    happened?'    tliey    demanded       Wli.,    mn-    the 


bell  ?' 


and  his  companioii 


[  j  I  i  1    1  J     ■  !  i  I    y 


had  not  heard  the  bell.  'What  bell  ^'  thnv  .do  ].  i  id 
the  people  hurried  on.  As  they  descended  ihov  mr^t 
crowds,  all  in  a  state  of  amtation,  rumn  ikm- 
men  and  uomen,  all  highly  excite  i,  ad  La.U;in!iu  up 
the  hill.  Very  lucky,"  said  M.  ^  P  -^^^^  ^  u.u  we  got 
away  in  time;  and  T  w;n  uncommonly -did  wluii  ^^c 
were  in  the  town  and  could  rattle  along  will  .in 
creating  suspicion.  We  wrro  soon  over  d^  drid  p 
and  out  of  harm's  way  ;  but  I  do  believe  i;  tj,,  ,  :  ,,  | 
caught  us  and  known  we  had  rung  the  bod.  Im  v 
would  liave  done  us  a  mischief  for  daring  to  luucii 
their  lioly   bell.     These  people  are  mad-     laauu^  .u 

s2 


%.- 


Il    i 


.  I 


il 


M 


h 


260 


RUSSIAN  FANATICISM. 


their  religion,  and  when  they  are  roused  are  blind  in 
their  rage." 

This  accounts,  methought,  for  the  Iberian    '1   ther 
sretting  such  a  lot  of  money  at  the   Iversky  H  re  in 


M  ■-'*'  «\\'.  aipl  :i ' 


'  -r  the  ii!:-p:u-mg 


(' 


1  ^       n 


1^1,1 ,  ,,--]lt  t'  >    ^'i  1  M'-]a;l  Tif  tl  :*"■  ^"»rii  hT---.  AvIp's   l>;t    t]\r-   <liniM<"'lVl 


V.  ■:pl.-r    l!:;t'     1!; 

11   \\ 


\ '  'I  I  iiifik 


.1  ■  I  i 


l;!li.t'  I'MMi 


i  i 


(ill  f 


it.     Till 


Hi* 


!  i  :a'     iKtCiv-    liifll       !! 


trcaliiifiil 


ui  liiL'  oiulaii — ill    ii]>   pi'i  >{('( 
llir  Ea.-l. 


la  >ii    I  'i    lia'  (  li^i-IuUi^   in 


Oil  *»iir  ri'turii  !<•  tla-  lair  Mr.  I*— — ■  pi^  •]»<  •.-(•<]  iliat 
we  and  a  voiniir  fi'ieial,  a  h*u>-iaii  of  LTnod  iaiiiil\-,  who 

was  leamina   his  bushicss    as  a   riicrchant  under    him, 

I,.  - 

should   ixo   and  dine    at    the   <rrand   restaurant   ol"  th(* 

place.       So   we  went,  Mr.  1^ ,  in  the  spirit  <.)f  the 

nuUionnaire  Russian  merchant,  claiming  to  be  our 
host.  Driving  through  much  mud  we  reached 
a  block  of  low  long  buildings  beyon<l  the  precincts  of 
the  bazaars.  At  the  door  of  one  ol"  these  were  num- 
bers of  well-dressed  men,  stan<llng  about,  or  going  in 
and  out  in  groups,  as  at  the  entrance  of  one  (»f  our 
Pall  Mall  Clubs  in  June  abe»ut  dinner  time.  It  was 
four  o'clock,  the  fashionable  hour  of  the  fair.  The 
greetings  of  ^Ir.  P and  his  friends  Avere  innunier- 


\4 


THE  GRAND  RESTAURANT. 


261 


able,  and  all  so  hearty  and  cordial ;  such  clappings  on 
the  shoulder,  such  holdings  of  hands,  such  Inndiinu 
nods  an  i  w  aving  of  arms. 

'"  V^Ki  here,    P -- -■"   -a*.  <  .  iii«_' , 

!!ie  do-ai.^"     ■■  O;,  '  ,.i,'y  y.-^:.  a-day."    -Tiiars  i 


v\  iicli      Uiil      \'ull 


{  '.  > 


"     .     I    '  , 


1    1 

aM    a]-< 


<-X- 


-diaiLrJiftMl.    V( 


r]a]]![-d  a!i"tlMa\  ^'.iil  riaiit — diaiLTSiitM  i.     naiareconi- 

•«  1P_^ —  rrlvnz  H  cfront  ^pr.aiil."  sav^  a 


1 1 


\    i    .  !  { 


"1  caul  U)-da\ — iriLaids. 


^, 


•  ^Vf  .aiiiav.l^  I  ItM-liiig  cdl  the  lime  that    I  was  in 

tilt'  \va\  of  Mr.  P '>  taiJMNaim  a  tia^au  witli  lii-  jovial 

b'i''nd<  tmni  Mo-euw.  In  tluj  eorride»r  and  on  the 
staii'rase  was  an  (aidlc-^^  stream  of  i:enth^men  hurr\dnG: 
in  variniis  (UiaMiious,  all  talkinir,  all  in  hiirh  spirits.  Xo 
woiidtaa  th<'V  wei'e  all  <  n  'jarcon  at  the  fair — their  wives 
wrre  hit  at  Moscow,  and  it  was  dimier  time, — wdiat  a 
combination  I 

AA  e  strnggli'd  u|)<tairs,  and  entered  a  long  room, 
wlieix^  were  small  tables  laid  for  dinner  in  rows,  most 
of  them  alreadvoccnipled  ])V])arties  of  n[entlemen,  threes 

and  f  )urs,  and  all  deep  in  dinner.       Mr.  P w^ent 

oil  to  ser  the  master  of  the  house,  and  to  order  a  par- 
ticular and  /'((7/rvv7^' dinner.  In  about  twentv  niin- 
utes  he  returned. 


I 


i 


I  ill 


i!     i 


'i' 


i    ! 


^r^ 


x 


1  i  i  i 


R. 


"Ah.     -a:  i  he,  a>  he  ^aiik  mtu  his  chair,       i  iiavc 
(lone  afboli:;ii  LUmg — 1  uave  spoilt  my  dinner." 


M 


^v  ua:  iui- iiapj_.Kii^.^'l ;"''  said  1. 
W:a,\  ih-re  is  J> _h.h!i-  , 


stairs  in  th.  ^  h  .^ 


I .  j  — 


Tvi^.h 


!■■' 


1  -ingerj^  ; 


I    I ' ' » < ,  I 


1  .>•]   ti 


i  1 


it.      T 


1 1  ^  ♦ 


k^A  \i 


\vh^   1    lie  saw  me  :ni1 


?]i*M[;c  1  tau  mv  iiani'"'  nii-l  iikpI' 


('■.aiM,^  TV) — -wa 


•■1 


me 


*  *    a 


1     !       !  > 


in  via"!  a 


W 


I  --v, 


1  Sihl 


I  iui'i  (ruaal 
'  Fritai'l-- 


i  i '  i 


JVIU'J 


Haiti  —  i  J  r 


1       '  * 

■  t  a\ ! ■ !  a  1 ! ! a ' '  1 


I  la  III    all — ^•\\\'  \\-    liul 


liah  ih'iaa.        Well    ha\r    ihr  diiiiu-r  all  *»!!    the    la!)h' 

aiiaifi.    Ilt'i'ta — wahrr — lirrr",-  ^fr.  P aial  lii-  fricnils 

coruiiiL!'  tn  diiic — liavo  a  iVr-h  dinia-r  iliriaih  ."  Itnw- 
ever,  I  thiUiLiiit  y<>ii  W(')liM  iioi  liko  sudi  an  uproaiMori< 
alhair,  and  so  I  (IccliiKal  aial  qv>i  awnv  ;  h)Ul  n<»t  wilh- 
(Hit  (liiukiiig  a  wholi?    tui!il)K-r   <<[    cliainpauiu',    whirh 

B insisted   on    ]u\'   takinu: — and    now    \\\\<    con- 

fuimdod  cliani[)agno  has  rpiito  spoiled  inv  a[)pcnteh' 

I  felt  ("luite  a   reirret    lliat    Mr.    P .-h')ul<l   have 

lo^t  all  this  jovialiiA',  and  >{)Mili  hi^  .Jinurr  too,  nn  ]n\' 
arconnt. 

'vNo,  no,  I  want  t<>  ^how  \a)u  oik^  or  two  thini]"-  in 
the  tair.  and  we  -la  add  novcr  havr  is^A  awa\  iVom  the 
part}'  da'wri-tair- ;  and  Ije.-rle-.  wo  aio  ( juaaler  here  ; 
and  1 


lorc^  ct  ane-  itir  >ierioi  -'  • 


"i'- 


I  4 


r: 


\^ 


\  ^, 


:  UECin:K^'n!;  eiNvrTj^ 


So  by  the  aid  of  various  little  ilLu-idL-  ivheis,  iUv^u 
as  anchovies  and  lemon,  and  pickles,  and  so  on.  \o; 
spurred  up  our  appetites,  a  e  A[  P  ^ —  .  \  a  re- 
covered his  under  this  little  discipline,  anl  -'o   ai;    iil 

iu-tice    to  :i   Pnssian  recherche  dheicr.       11  ^  - 


i-let 


*^oiri    war 


n^   fli-iniorvl 


i'ln!i]'a'')1e — -I*  I'ita.    1 
-are    ol     Li-'Uriaah'!     fxa-- — <  h,  elari.-i  1    lo    hu 
~i   l:a\  •  ai r    a ii!  1  evaia  Iil  a  ai  «  ai    !  lie 


1  •    1 


uuiy  laiLii  la  i* 


I  ai  1 1  i\ "  > ' i  i  1 "~  1  i a  i  1  \  < '  \\  li I  *  1 

•^  '      ■  ,1  la.  . 

■t  a  M    )  I     1  '  • 


Ai->a  lia:rt,  ^^a-a  L^aniL:  Ijud 


■t    'MM       I         ! 


«  ■  ■ 


\\aa'('  t  !a  ■  '  I     ' 


iii„  a  1  aii'i  ri^la:^  ■  in  i!a\ « 'Ur.      \  ari*  )iis 
<  aah  <a-'-'  hial  •!«  *  n  >  leo-ae  1  ml  n<  4  la^- 


a-   ea-tinL!    inta»    -laah'    oitlu/r    Fel 


inai'Kaha'  a-  ea-nnL!  nitai  -laah'  satni/r  relippe,  or 
iM'ancaloili.  ^a"  da'  I'tMhaihlod  "  FiTi'o-,  "  aiad  of  course 
chainpaLino  and  h'tck  pla\ed  ihoir  iair  part.  From  a 
di>lane('  al  int<'rval.-  eame  np  to)  u-  the  notes  uidhe  T\-- 
rohain  >inL^rrs,  and  the  -liouts  oi' the  guests  ul'  '' tliat 
iolK'  old  1) uoinii'  it/' 

The  dinner  over,  we  ^allied  forth.  In  tlie  middle 
oi'dinner  a  ])ortl\ man,  his  faci^  Ixaimiim"  with  irood- 
huiriMin-.  had  (V»me  up  to  inquire  of  our  Avell-doing. 
dhi<  wa-  the  hov|.  from  Museow  for  the  no>nee.  a 
lai'L;o  uvnial  man.  Faeh  voar  he  made  a  little  for- 
inno  a.t  Xijni.  X^ 'W  la-  \va-  told  that  1  ^vi-hed  to  see 
whoia-  ho  Isfpi  hi-  -liu'Lio  •!!  ari'l  -terlot  in  the  riviaa 
Ihc-e    waa'o    kci)!    undor   lock    and    kiv   out    on    tlie 


1 


4 


20i 


FI 


'    T   G 


S 


i-LlvLLi     A>»D 


p. 


iitly    h'     returncii    wah  the  keys  nnri 
directions,  and  confided  iliu  guardians  of  his  treasures 

to  Mr.   P with  many   injunctions  ;    and    so  we 

drove  oif  to  the  great  bridge.  Arrived  at  about  a 
third  of  the  way  over,  we  got  down  from  our 
droschky,  and  found  stairs  leading  out  to  what  was  a 
floating  town.  On  what  a  scale  it  all  was !  Here 
were  wooden  erections,  so  extensive  and  so  substan- 
tial, one  might  suppose  they  had  been  there  for  a 
century,  and  were  intended  to  last  another  century 
or  two — living  rooms  and  covered  decks,  passages 
and  galleries,  small  wells  for  delicate  fish,  and  large 
wells  for  the  royal  sturgeon  and  princely  sterlet.  In 
various  parts  of  the  decks  were  the  sacred  cavities, 
the  wells,  fastened  with  massive  iron  locks  and  bars. 
One  of  the  keys  of  the  Moscow  landlord  opened  a 
monster  padlock,  and  a  wide  dark  pool  yawned  be- 
neath the  spreading  roof-like  cover.  A  man  with 
bare  legs  and  short  white  linen  brogues,  with  red 
beard  and  bare  neck,  came  with  a  net  six  feet  square, 
in  a  frame  with  a  long  handle,  and  plunged  this  into 
the  pool.  Then  there  was  a  mighty  turmoil  below  of 
huge  monsters  rushing  about  in  the  wide  space,  the 
water  surging  up  all  round,  and  now  a  great  head 
half  appearing  above  it,  and  now  a  tail  fin,  the  splen- 


Uii. 


(lid  fish  lashing  in  its  descent  the  boilin<' 
last  the  skilful  workman  secured  one  in  a  corner  hi 
bore  hiin  to  the  surface— a  hundred  pounder— a  stur- 
geon— a  noble  fellow. 

"That's  not  one  of  the  largest,"  said  the  man, 
quietly;  and  then  he  dipped  the  net,  turned  it 
over  with  a  twist  of  his  wrist,  released  the  fish, 
and  struck  out  for  another.  Then  began  again  the 
turmoil  amid  the  seething  water.  "  That's  a  good 
one,"  he  exclaimed,  as  one  bigger  than  the  last  rose  to 
the  surface,  and  after  a  savage  rush  and  struggle  was 
captured  in  the  bellying  net.  "  That's  about  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty,"  said  the  man,  "and  in  good  season 
too." 

What  a  splendid  fellow  he  was  !— bright  and  shin- 
ing, and  of  beautiful  proportions.  What  play  that  fish 
would  give  one  on  a  good  line  down  stream,  me- 
thought !  It  would  be  an  hour  or  two's  work  to  land 
him,  and  here  he  comes  up  in  his  prison  in  two  turns 
of  the  wrist.  He  seemed  all  too  grand  for  his  narrow 
dungeon.  Then  we  had  another  well  opened,  and 
the  delight  of  gourmands,  the  sterlet,  was  fished  up 
in  the  same  way.     Of  all  sizes  these  were,  from  five 

and  ten  pounds  up  to  fifty.     Mr.   P told  us  a 

story  of  a  fine  sturgeon  caught  in  the  Volga  some  few 


266 


LOW  SUBURBS  OF  THE  FAIR. 


TEA-STORES. 


267 


years  back,  on  the  occasion  of  the  visit  of  the  Crown 
Prince  to  Nijni,  and  presented  to  him.  The  Prince 
requested  that  he  miglit  not  be  killed,  but  turned 
back  into  the  river.  This  was  done,  a  gold  ring  with 
an  inscription  being  run  through  his  gill.  Three  or 
four  years  afterwards  a  peasant  caught  the  fish  with 
the  ring  in  his  gill,  and  the  Governor  of  Nijni,  hearing 
of  the  capture,  sent  off  to  save  the  fish's  life.  ^'The 
Prince  had  spared  his  life — no  one  must  kill  him." 
So  the  Governor  decided,  and  he  gave  the  peasant 
five  hundred  roubles  for  it,  added  a  second  ring  with 
a  fresh  inscription  in  the  gill  of  the  fish,  and  gave  him 
his  liberty. 

"  That  fish,"  said  Mr.  P ,  ^'  has  a  fair  chance  of 

dying  in  his  bed  of  old  age,  a  rare  case  for  a  sturgeon 
within  reach  of  Nijni." 

We  drove  from  thence  across  the  point  of  land 
through  endless  rows  of  bazaars,  till  we  got  beyond 
the  regular  buildings.  Here  were  the  low  suburbs  of 
the  fair.  Rude  cottages,  large  halls  for  dancing  of 
the  roughest  materials  and  spreading  dimensions,  so- 
litary  sheds,  straggling  houses,  and  tumble-down  vodka 
shops,  were  scattered  irregularly  on  both  sides  of  the 
broad,  deep,  muddy  track.  We  struggled  on,  for  the 
great  tea-stores  were  in  front.     At  last  the  roadway 


became  so  bad,  with  great  holes  and  heaps  of  broken 
brick,  long  pieces  of  timber  lying  about  pell-mell, 
compelling  perpetual  windings  in  and  out  and  round 
about,  and  much  steering  between  pools  and  preci- 
pices, with  an  occasional  forced  climb  over  a  rugged 
Scylla  and  a  dip  down  into  a  quagmiry  Charybdis, 
that  we   were  compelled   to  come  to  a  halt.     The 
track  was  ceasing  to  be  anytliing  but  a  general  slough 
of  despond.     However,  there  were  the  tea-stores  in 
our  front.    In  long  lines  and  high,  fifty  yards  in  length 
and  twenty  feet  in  height,  were  piles  of  tea-chests. 
For  the  most  part  these  were  covered  with  mattings 
or  sailcloths  to  keep  the  rain  from  them,  but  some 
were  exposed  at  the  sides,  and  here  we  could  see  the 
usual  yellow  tea-chest,  about  two  feet  square,  handy 
for  moving,   so  well  known  in  our  London   shops, 
sealed  with  the  large  black  Chinese  characters  and 
adorned   with  the  familiar  persons   of  our  Celestial 
friends.     There   must   have   been   acres   of    ground 
covered  with  these  piles  of  chests ;  but  as  all  Russia 
drinks  tea  morning,  noon,  and  night,  the  supply  was 
probably  only  a  portion  of  what  is  required. 

But  it  was  getting  dark,  so  we  escaped  from  the 
quagmire  as  well  as  we  could,  and  entering  the 
fair  again,  were   set  down  at   the  doorway   of  the 


H 


268 


THE  FAIR. 


RETURN  TO  MOSCOW. 


269 


building  where  the  Governor  resides — the  centre  of 
the  place,  and  the  only  considerable  and  lofty  build- 
ing in  it.  Below  were  bazaars  and  coffee-houses,  and 
above  were  the  dwelling-house  and  offices  of  the 
Governor.  This  was  all  lit  up,  and  here  along  the 
many  and  crossing  and  winding  passages  of  the  bazaar, 
the  shops  displaying  all  their  gayest  colours  and  most 
attractive  articles,  were  crowds  of  people  of  all  coun- 
tries, lounging  away  the  evening  in  the  essential  en- 
joyments of  shopping  or  doing  nothing.  Here  in  the 
several  shops  were  Armenians,  Persians,  Turks,  men 
from  Bokhara,  Tahtars,  and  Cossacks.  A  young  lad 
in  white  and  a  boy  in  scarlet  trowsers,  their  whole 
dress  gorgeous  with  gold  lace  and  glittering  arms — 
sons  of  some  chief  of  the  Caucasus — were  barfrainincf 
for  a  richly-finished  and  ornamented  revolver.  Poor 
young  fellows,  methought,  there  is  not  much  for  you 
to  do  with  a  revolver  now.  You  can  put  it  in  your 
gorgeous  girdle  as  an  ornament  for  display,  but  when 
you  get  home  to  your  mountains  you  must  not  fire  it 
at  any  one  without  permission  from  some  gentleman 
in  a  plain  green  coat  in  your  neighbourhood. 

My  two  companions  bargained  with  some  Persians 
for  some  silk  for  their  wives  at  Moscow.  How  they 
fought  over  it !  Mr.  P named  his  price  and  steadily 


m 


Stuck  to  it ;  while  the  Persians  tried  every  calculation 
and   every  argument   to   shew   that   they  must  lose 
money  greatly  at  that  price.     But  the  Moscow  mer- 
chant knew  better  than  that.     How  quiet  and  dogged 
the  Englishman  was,  and  how  the  eyes  of  the  Persians 
gleamed  and  shot  out  sparks  of  fire  with  the  earnest- 
ness of  the  combat !     But  their  manner  never  lost  the 
smooth  polish  of  supple  well-bred  men  in  spite  of  all 
their  eagerness.  Of  course  the  end  of  the  fight  was  that 
the  silks  were  folded  beautifully  by  the  Persians,  and 
were  borne  off  by  the  servant  of  the  Briton.     The 
Bokhara  men  had  brought  stones,  brown  and  white, 
from  the  Bokhara  mountains,  and  bracelets  of  one  of 
these  stones,  serdaHk— the  penultimate  syllable  bear- 
ing the  long  accent— changed  hands,  as  had  done  the 
silks. 

There  were  men,  too,  from  Tashkend  selling  smart 
kerchiefs  which  would  make  the  eyes  of  our  young 
ladies  dance  with  their  brilliant  colouring. 

But  the  time  was  arriving  for  the  train  back  to  Mos- 
cow ;  so  turning  our  backs  on  the  men  of  Bokhara 
and  Tashkend,  on  the  Persians  and  the  boy  chieftain 
from  the  Caucasus,  we  drove  to  the  station,  and  after 

many  shakings  of  the  hand  of  Mr.  P and  hearty 

thanks,  I  started  again  for  Moscow. 


Ill 


/ 


270 


A  COMPANION  ON  THE  JOURNEY. 


But  I  did  not  travel  alone.  Besides  various  persons 
in  my  carriage  there  was  a  lady,  my  opposite  neigh- 
bour, who  was  committed  to  my  care  for  the  journey. 
She  was  the  wife  of  the  young  Russian,  the  student  in 

commercial  matters  under  Mr.  P .     Both  the  lady 

and  her  husband  were  of  high  Russian  family,  but  in 
the  transition  state  of  things  in  that  country  young 
members  of  old  families  are  casting  about  for  a  more 
active  and  useful  existence  than  the  old  and  idle  one 
of  the  nobles  of  the  past ;  and  so  this  young  gentle- 
man was  ardent  in  the  pursuit  of  commercial  know- 
ledge. He  was  tall  and  handsome,  witli  well-bred 
manners  ;  and  his  young  wife  was  a  beautiful  person, 
tall  and  with  delicate  features,  and  a  countenance  ex- 
pressive of  goodness  and  amiability.  She  had  gone 
down  for  a  day  to  see  her  husband  at  Nijni,  and  as 
even  loving  young  waives  cannot  stay  there  she  w^as 
on  her  w^ay  home  again  to  Moscow.  She  was  pale, 
thoroughly  Russian,  with  no  Tahtar  blood  in  her 
veins,  and  she  did  not  smoke.  When  I  parted  from 
her  on  the  following  morning  at  Moscow,  and  saw  her 
into  the  hands  of  her  liveried  servants  and  step  into 
her  carriage,  I  thought  I  had  rarely  seen  or  spoken 
to  a  more  unaffected  or  more  cliarming  person. 

A  dav  or  two  afterwards,  when  relating]:  to  our  Con- 


I 


THE  TRADE  OF  NIJNI. 


271 


r 


I 


sul,  Mr.  R ,  my  visit  to  Nijni,  and  all   the  many 

acts  of  kindness  and  hospitality  on  the  part  of  his 
friend  Mr.  P ,  not  the  least  of  which  was  the  sacri- 
fice of  his  own  time,  he  said, 

"  How  glad  I  am  you  have  seen  Nijni  as  it  is,  in 
something  of  its  old  splendour,  for  this  will  not  last 
very  much  longer.     It  was  a  very  convenient  position, 
central  and  come-at-able,  on  the  two  rivers,  for  trade 
between  east  and  west  under  the  old  tedious  modes 
of  communication.    People  arrived  there  by  water,  and 
this  was  a  matter  of  great  moment,  for  as  there  was  no 
kind  of  convenience   in  the  way  of  transport  for  the 
mass  of  Eastern  goods  in  this  direction,  Nijni  was  a  good 
meeting-place.  But  now  all  this  is  changing.   New  con- 
ditions of  transport  are  upsetting  all  the  old  arrange- 
ments.     Steam  and  railway  are  revolutionising  this 
trade.     Merchants  of  Moscow  are  beginning  to  ask 
why  should   they  go   to   the  goods    at  Nijni,  when 
the    goods    can    come    on    as  well  to    Moscow  by 
rail  ?     Even  now  some  merchants  refuse  to  go,  and 
I  hey  send  down  orders  to  agents.     The  numbers  of 
the  people  at  the  fair  are  diminishing  already,  and 
there  are  said  to  be  three  hundred  thousand  now  in- 
stead of  four  and  even  five  hundred  thousand  a  few 
}'ears  back.     The   trade,  too,  is  taking  advantage  of 


; 


272 


DECLINE  OF  NIJNI  FAIR. 


273 


other  channels,  so  that  in  the  course  of  a  few  more 
years — ten  or  twenty — the  Nijni  fair  will  dwindle,  and 
by  degrees  become  a  thing  of  the  past,  except  for  the 
commoner  and  coarser  goods." 

As  the   Egyptian   boat  song   has  it,   "  Everything 
passes  but  God."     Even  the  Nijni  fair. 


i? 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Profligacy  of  Russian  Nobles  ^ExtenuatiDg  Circumstances-Benevolence 
of  the  Higher  Orders-The  GaUtzin  and  Foundling  Hospitals-Visit 
to  Hospital  founded  by  the  Sheremaytieff  Family— The  Building 
Apartments,  and  Gardens— Noble  Endowment-The  Dining  HaU— 
Inmates-The  Sick,  Maimed,  and  Blind-Friendless  Old  Men-The 
Women's  Apartments-Anecdotes  and  Portraits-Apartments  for 
the  Sick-General  Hospital-The  Governor's  Room-Distribution 
of  Money  to  Pensioners— Conversation  with  the  Governor-Sum 
annually  expended  by  the  nos^it^\~-Societe  Fraterndle-^oh]e  Side 
of  the  Russian  Character. 

A  LTHOUGH  there  is  much  said  in  Russia  in  blame 
of  the  class  of  noble  their  extravagances,  their 
gambling,  their  profligacy,  their  bad  example  as  land- 
lords and  as  rulers  over  their  serfs,  yet  there  is  a  re- 
verse side  to  this  picture.  I  heard  it  even  claimed  by 
some  Russians  at  a  dinner-table  that  in  profligacy  some 
members  of  this  class  could  compare  with  advantage 
—an  evil  advantage— with  those  of  any  other  country. 
One. or  two  of  the  company  stood  up  manfully  for  the 
French  nation  as  possessing  tliose  who  would  bear 


274 


PROFLIGACY  OF  RUSSLVN  NOBLES. 


away  the  bell  in  a  contest  of  profligacy ;  but  as  the 
argument  proceeded  opinions  wavered,  and  in  the  end 
the  dark  prize  was  awarded  to  Russia.  In  such  a 
question  it  is  always  fair  to  admit  circumstances — ex- 
tenuating circumstances.  In  the  present  case  it  must 
be  borne  in  mind  that  in  the  Russian  blood  there  is 
an  admixture  of  the  utterly  lawless  Tahtar,  reckless  of 
any  result  but  the  gratification  of  his  own  passions, 
inheritor  of  violence  and  of  absence  of  all  scruple. 
Moreover,  the  position  of  the  noble  was  exceptional ; 
for  not  only  was  he  lord  of  wide  domains  and  almost 
unlimited  wealth,  but  he  was  a  ruler  of  serfs — of 
slaves — with  a  power  tantamount  to  a  power  of  life 
and  death,  a  power  over  their  property,  a  power  over 
their  persons ;  and  there  was  no  law  to  restrain  him 
but  one  he  virtually  administered  himself,  and  could 
evade  at  pleasure.  What  could  possibly  be  expected 
from  such  a  combination  of  blood  and  position  ? 
Wliat  but  the  exercise  of  every  profligacy  varnished 
over  with  the  glitter  of  civilization.  The  French 
nation  has  no  ingredients  of  tliis  kind.  Happily  for 
them  circumstances  are  against  them  in  the  contest 
of  evil.  But  as  there  are  in  the  world  only  a 
limited  number  of  very  great  criminals,  so  in  Russia 
w^e  must  consider  that   there   were  manv  deforces  of 


HOSPITALS  FOUNDED  BY  NOBLE  FAMILIES.        275 

social  criminality  in  the  reckless  upper  class,  and  that 
the  principal  off'enders  were  but  few. 

But  there  is  a  reverse  of  the  picture.  In  no  countrv 
are  there  evidences  of  a  higher  and  purer  spirit  of 
benevolence  and  charity  than  among  those  very  nobles. 
In  and  around  Moscow  there  are  many  of  the  most 
splendid  institutions,  founded  by  men  of  family  and 
flourishing  to  this  hour,  that  can  be  found  in  any 
capital  of  Europe.  Among  these  may  be  cited  the 
Galitzin  Hospital  on  the  banks  of  the  Moskwa  on  the 
road  to  the  Sparrow  Hills,  founded  and  endowed 
by  a  Prince  Galitzin;  the  Foundling,  endowed  by 
Prince  Demidoff";  and  others  of  a  similar  character. 

Among  these  was  named  to  me  one  day  by  the 

Count  L the  hospital  founded  by  the  Sheremay- 

tieif  family. 

''  If  you  will  call  on  the  principal  medical  man,  who 
lives  in  the  garden,  and  use  my  name,"  said  he, 
''  Dr.  C will  show  you  over  everything  willingly." 

Accordingly  I  presented  myself  one  day  at  the 
doctor's  door.  He  received  me  cordially,  speaking 
the  French  language  with  ease  and  fluency ;  and  this 
day  being  a  committee  day,  and  he  occupied  with  busi- 
ness, he  engaged  me  to  call  on  him  on  the  morning 


following. 


T  2 


276 


THE  SHEREMAYTIEFF  HOSPITAL. 


PRINCELY  DONATION. 


277 


"Are  you  a  doctor?"  said  he,  as  we  parted. 

''  Not  at  all,"  said  I,   "  only  a  traveller,  interested 
in  the  details  of  a  noble  charity." 

"  I  think  it  will  please  you— you  shall   see  every- 
thing," said  he. 

At  the  hour  named  on  the  subsequent  day  I  found 
iJi.  C ready  and  smiling. 

1  will  first  give  a  short  description  of  the  building 
and  circumstances  of  this  remarkable  institution  before 
we  enter  it.  The  situation  is  good.  It  stands  on  one 
of  the  high  grounds  of  Moscow,  on  the  north  side  of 
the  great  Boulevard  which  runs  in  a  circle  through 
the  centre  of  the  city.  As  it  stands  a  little  back  from 
the  Boulevard,  there  is  a  wide  space  of  perhaps  forty 
yards  breadth  in  front  of  it  to  the  south  and  west ; 
and  as  on  this  there  is  one  of  the  city  fountains 
always  pla}dng,  and  beyond  it  are  the  usual  low  cot- 
tages with  their  gardens,  while  behind  it  to  the  north 
are  extensive  gardens  belonging  to  the  Hospice,  no- 
thing can  well  be  more  airy  or  sunny  than  the  situa- 
tion. The  building  is  of  course  low,  only  one  storey 
in  height,  and  is  in  the  form  of  a  half  moon,  a  deeply 
embayed  crescent.  The  cord  of  the  arc  is  about  two 
hundred  yards  in  length,  and  consists  of  an  open  iron 
railing   with  gilded  spear  points,   and  within  this  a 


grass  plot  and  garden  fill  the  whole  space.  Frequent 
staircases  descend  from  the  first  floor  to  the  basement, 
and  many  doors  issue  on  this  sunny  and  spacious 
garden.  One  half  of  the  buildings  of  this  immense 
half  circle  are  occupied  by  the  apartments  of  those 
inmates  of  the  Hospice  who  are  in  health,  and  the 
other  half  is  set  apart  for  the  sick,  for  baths,  for  offi- 
ces, for  committee  rooms,  for  oflicer  s  apartments,  and 
all  the  general  purposes  of  the  establishment.  In 
the  centre  of  the  half  moon  rises  the  Church,  plain  in 
exterior,  neat  and  not  gaudy  within. 

In  this  place  are  maintained  by  funds  left  by  the 
Prince  Sheremaytieff* — one  hundred  old  men  and  one 
hundred  old  women.  One  of  the  family  Sheremay- 
tiefF — one  of  the  highest  in  the  Empire— Prince  Mi- 
chael, some  years  ago  built  this  Hospice  and  endowed 
it  with  a  landed  estate  producing  fifty  thousand  rou- 
bles a  year,  witli  villages  on  it  and  eight  thousand 
serfs.  These  estates  now,  under  the  altered  circum- 
stances of  the  country,  produce  forty-three  thousand 
roubles,  equal  to  about  six  thousand  pounds  of  our 
money.  This  is  a  princely  donation  to  the  impover- 
ished and  the  unfortunate  and  the  sick  of  one's  fellow 
countrymen.  Besides  this,  there  is  a  sum  of  monev 
left  in  Russian  funds  the  interest  of  which  is  ten  thou- 


278 


THE  DINING  HALL. 


THE  MEN  S  HOOxMS. 


279 


m 


sand  roubles  a  year.  Thus,  in  all,  this  nobleman  has 
endowed  his  Hospice  with  a  fortune  of  fifty-three  thou- 
sand roubles  per  annum.  This  and  other  similar  en- 
dowments are  grand  acts  worthy  of  all  honour,  and 
should  redeem  in  the  eyes  of  those  sitting  in  judgment 
on  Russia  many  faults  and  shortcomings.  A  class  which 
could  produce  many  men  of  this  stamp  could  not  be 
altogether  bad. 

On  entering  the  building  we  were  joined   by  the 
manager  of  the  Hospice,  a  Russian  gentleman.      He 
first  led  us  into  the  dining  hall.    This  was  a  fine  room, 
eighty  feet  long  by  thirty  in  breadth,  and  lofty.  It  ter- 
minated the  edifice  at  one  end  of  the  half  moon,  the 
length  of  it  being  the  depth  of  the  building,  eighty 
feet,  while  its  height  was  that  of  the  ground  floor  and 
the  storey  above  it.     A  fine  full  length  portrait  of  the 
prince,  the  founder,  was  at  one  end  of  this  hall,  which 
was  simply  but  well  furnished.   In  this  all  the  inmates 
have  their  meals,  ie,,  those  who  are  strong  enough  to 
walk  there.     Many  are  too  old  and  weak  for  this,  and 
these  have  their  meals  taken  to  them  in  their  rooms 
by  servants  of  the  establishment.     Of  these  servants 
there  are  one  hundred  and  two. 

We  were  then  conducted  into  the  rooms  of  the 
men,   which    are   on  the  ground-floor.     These  were 


large,  lofty,  and  airy.     Four  or  five  beds  were  in  one 
room,  and  six  or  seven  in  another — the  arrangement 
being  that  the  rooms  were  in  pairs,  one  room  in  the 
front  and  one  behind,  and  opening  into  each  other 
by  a  wide  archway  in  the  centre.     Those  at  the  back, 
to  the  north,  were  always  the  largest,  being  in  the 
long  outer  side  of  the  half  circle.     The  walls  were  of 
immense  thickness,  keeping  the  rooms  cool  in  sum- 
mer and  warm  in  winter.     Against  these  walls  were 
clothes  presses,  and  chests  of  drawers,  and  washing 
places.     Every  man   had   his    separate  bed,  all   the 
component  parts  of  it  being  of  the  best,  clean  thick 
soft  beds,  fit  for  anyone.     At  each  bed  head  was  a 
neat   little   low   cupboard   for  the  man's    tea-things, 
books,  or  any  small  object  of  aff^ection  or  fancy.     All 
the  men  wore  a  large  grey  wrapping  coat  as  a  kind 
of  uniform.     In    the  first   room  was  a  man  with  a 
countenance  and  manners,  when  spoken  to,  above  the 
common,  and  not  above  sixty  years  of  age.     The  chief 
told  me  that  this  man  was  of  French  extraction,  born 
in  Russia.    He  had  been  a  priest  of  the  Greek  Church, 
but  having  become  unable  from  illness  to  do  any  ser- 
vice in  the  church  he  had  fallen  into  utter  destitution. 
Sometimes  this  would  happen  even  to  a  native  priest, 
and  this  man  being  a  foreigner  he  had  no  friends,  and 


280 


INMATES  OP  TfTE  HOSPICE. 


THE  OLD  SOLDIER. 


281 


being  married  he  could  not  enter  any  convent.     The 
parish  priests  marry,  but  the  monks  do  not.     This 
man's  wife  was  in  the  Hospice  too,  but  as  a  servant. 
I  asked  him  about  his  friends  in  France,  and  lie  said 
he  had  none.     Poor  fellow!— not  a  friend   in   the 
worid  but  these  kind  foreigners.     In  another  room 
was  a  thin  old  man,  who  had  been  a  schoolmaster 
with  a  good  middle-class  school  once.     His  health 
had  given  way,  his  school  fell  off,  his  friends  could 
not  keep  him,  and   so  he  came  into  the  Hospice. 
What  a  life  of  disappointment,  and  care,  and  hard  stru^r- 
gle  ^Yith  circumstances,  was  summed  up  in  those  few 
words  !     One  soldierly  man  in  uniform  spoke  Frencli 
well.     He  had  attained  the  rank  of  major,  but  ill- 
health  had  driven  him  out  of  the  service ;  his  family 
were  poor,  and  he  could  turn  his  hand  to  nothing.    I 
asked  him  if  he  had  been  in  the  Crimea. 

No,  he  said,  but  many  of  his  friends  had,  and  some 
had  been  there  in  the  Hospice,  but  they  were  all  dead. 
"  All  dead  !"  said  I— *^  it  is  not  many  years  ago." 
''  They  had  all  suffered  much,"  said  the  doctor  ; 
''  there  were  five  of  them— all  had  been  wounded,' 
and  were  in  weak  condition,  and  they  soon  died. 
The  men,"  he  continued,  '^  die  much  faster  than  the 
women.     The  women  seem  to  make  themselves  more 


at  home  here  with  their  needle-work,  and  their  talk, 
and  their  little  ways,  and  they  live  much  longer  ;  but 
the  men  are  without  any  occupation,  and  they  cannot 
make  a  life  out  of  nothing  as  the  women  do,  and  so 
they  pine  and  die  soon.  Two  or  three  men,  on  an 
average,  die  every  week,  and  sometimes  four  or  five, 
but  there  are  some  weeks  when  we  do  not  lose  one 
woman." 

As  we  turned  away,  and  the  soldier  sat  down — for 
each  stood  up  as  he  was  addressed,  if  he  could,  which 
all  could  not — and  then  crawled  on  to  his  bed,  the 
manager  whispered  to  me — 

"  He  is  going ;  in  a  day  or  two  he  will  be  removed 
into  another  room,  and  then  he  will  go  into  the  sick 
ward,  and  will  be  dead  in  a  month,  perhaps.  They 
soon  go  when  they  once  give  way.  They  have  wine 
and  everything  they  can  want  or  require,  but  they 
have  no  stamina  and  soon  go." 

In  one  room  the  men  were  nearly  all  blind.  There 
appeared  to  be  a  great  consideration  for  the  sick  fan- 
cies of  these  old  men.  Some  of  them  were  gentle- 
men, and  most  of  them  of  decent  middle-class.  They 
all  had  their  tobacco,  and  in  all  their  little  cupboards 
were  plates  and  tea-things,  with  something  to  eat  or 
drink  in  them. 


X 


282 


ALONE  IN  THE  WORLD. 


THE  WOMEN  S  APARTMENTS. 


283 


I'l! 


"  Many  of  them,"  said  the  manager,  "  cannot  get 
into  the  big  hall,  or  they  have  no  appetite  at  tlie 
regular  hours,  and  so  we  give  them  whatever  they 
like  here,  and  they  manage  to  pick  a  bit  here  and 
there,  but  they  don't  eat  nmch." 

What  struck  me  as  rather  odd  was  that  all  the 
men  who  were  ill  were  at  once  transferred  from  the 
sunny  front  rooms  to  the  back  north  ones.  I  su^- 
gested  that  this  was  likely  to  tell  on  them,  the  room 
being  more  dull  and  the  air  less  healthv:  but  the 
doctor  only  shrugged  his  shoulders— ^' it  was  the 
custom." 

There  was  an  old  soldier  to  each  pair  of  rooms,  and 
by  ^Pplyi^g  to  him  any  man  could  go  out  into  the 
town  for  three  or  four  hours;  and  by  application  to 
the  manager  any  man  could  go  away  for  three  or  four 
days  into  the  country  and  see  his  friends—''  If  he  had 
any,"  observed  the  manager,  in  a  whisper,  ''and 
many  of  them  have  none."  No  wonder,  methought, 
these  poor  old  men  die  oif  quickly;  alone  in  the 
world,  without  a  friend,  or  a  hope,  or  a  stinmlus  of 
life,  what  can  a  broken  and  forsaken  man  do,  except 
what  Hezekiah  did — turn  his  face  to  the  wall  and 
die.  In  one  room  all  the  men  were  very  aged  and 
weak,  seven  or  eight,  most  of  them  on  their  beds,  or 


in  them.  It  appeared  that  there  were  different  rooms 
for  stages  of  debility.  When  a  man  became  too 
weakly  for  a  front  room,  he  was  moved  into  the  back 
one.  If  this  weakness  went  off,  which  it  rarely  did, 
he  was  restored  to  the  front ;  but  if  it  increased  he 
was  moved  on  to  another  room — the  one  we  were 
in — and  he  never  went  back  again.  What  a  death- 
knell,  methought,  was  this  move !  Poor  fellows ! 
what  a  stillness  there  was  in  this  room  !  They  were 
all  slowly  dying,  not  of  old  age,  but  of  weariness  of 
spirit  and  vacancy  of  purpose.  Many  of  them  had 
pulled  the  coverlet  over  their  heads  and  faces,  and  the 
only  thing  you  saw  were  the  outlines  of  the  form^  be- 
neath their  neat  grey  bedding,  motionless. 

From  thence  we  went  upstairs,  a  broad  flight,  with 
easy  shallow  steps  for  the  old  women  to  get  up  and 
down.  The  apartments  upstairs  were  arranged  pre- 
cisely as  those  below,  and  the  same  order  as  regarded 
health  and  sickness  was  carried  out.  These  rooms 
were  more  light  and  cheerful  than  those  below,  as  is 
generally  the  case  in  similar  circumstances,  and  so  the 
ladies  had  the  pleasantest  part  of  the  house,  as  is  but 
right  and  becoming  towards  ladies.  The  only  draw- 
back was  the  stairs,  if  any  of  them  wished  to  go  out, 
and  this  was  a  serious  set-off  in  many  cases ;  but  then 


L%„ 


ii  I 


284 


COJroitlON  OF  THE  WOMEN. 


in  this  life  there  always  mil  be  some  drawback  to 
every  advantageous  position.     The  rooms  were  fur- 
nished in  the  same  way  as  those  of  the  men,  except 
that  in  addition  to  the  small  cupboard  to  each  bed, 
there  was  a  handy  little  table  for  needlework,  and 
the  small  inevitable  littery  odds  and  ends  which  seem 
everywhere  to  form  an  appendage  to  the  female  pre- 
sence—a kind  of  material  atmosphere  which  enve- 
lops the  woman  and  woman's  arrangements,   and  in 
which  she  lives  and  moves  and  has  .her  being.     Here 
were  sometimes  two  or  three  women  round  one  table, 
with   needle-work  on    part  of  it  and    tea-cups  on 
another.     There  was  no  such  small  sociable  world  to 
be  seen  in  the  men's  rooms  below.     In  those  rooms 
the  man  appeared  to  be  a  wild  animal,  solitary  and 
uncouth  ;  while  the  woman  was  the  sociable  being— 
the  one  was  dying  for  want  of  the  outer  life,  the 
other  made    all  her  life  within.      No  xvonder'  the 
latter  lived  the  longer  lives.     To  each  pair  of  rooms, 
as  among  the  men,  there  was  a  superior  to  keep  order 
and  quiet. 

In  the  first  room  was  a  neat  old  person.  The 
manager  whispered  to  me  that  "  she  was  a  member 
of  one  of  the  highest  families  of  Russia,  bom  a  prin- 
cess.    She  had  married  a  medical  man,  in  spite  of  the 


^ 


FEMALE  INMATES. 


285 


remonstrances  of  her  relatives,  and  her  family  had 
given  her  up  iu  consequence.  Misfortunes  came,  the 
doctor  died,  she  had  no  children,  and  was  penniless. 
Though  old  she  was  capable  of  acting  as  the  superior 
of  the  two  rooms,  and  \yas  installed  in  that  office." 
Her  face  was  pale  and  pleasing,  her  figure  small  and 
slight.  The  smile  and  the  expression  and  the  manner 
all  told  of  a  different  class  of  person  from  those  around 
her.  In  the  plain  dress  of  the  Hospice  she  was  not  re- 
markable till  you  spoke  to  her,  and  then  the  pretty 
manner  and  quiet  unembarrassed  demeanour  were  very 
engaging.  Poor  lady  !  she  must  have  gone  through 
nmch  trouble  to  make  her  look  so  contented  and 
cheerful  in  her  present  position.  Anyhow  it  was  a 
rest  after  a  struggle  of  life  in  which  all  pride  of  blood 
and  all  romantic  happiness  and  personal  comfort  had 
gone  down  in  the  fight  and  left  her  a  mere  waif  and 
stray,  a  wreck  on  a  barren  shore.  What  a  blessing 
to  k^v  this  Hospice,  with  its  healthy  spacious  rooms  and 
good  food,  and,  moreover,  an  office  of  confidence.  In 
another  room  was  a  small  delicate  person.  She  too 
was  of  the  better  class,  a  niece  of  one  of  the  present 
imperial  ministers  at  St.  Petersburg.  When  I  ex- 
pressed my  surprise  at  a  gentleman  so  high  allowing 
liis  niece  to  remain  tliere,  the  manager  said,   "  It  was 


II 


» 


ill 
HI 


286 


THE  GERMAN  WIDOW. 


droll ;  but,"  he  added,  -  he  is  not  rich,  and  if  he  re- 
moved  this  person,   and  some  day  lost  his  appoint- 
ment, she  would  be  as  badly  off  as  ever ;  besides,  she 
is  well  here,  and  she  can  go  out  and  see  her  friends 
when  she  likes/^     She  had  never  married.     I  thought 
she  seemed  to  feel  her  situation,  for  she  kept  her  seat 
at  her  little  table  with  her  back  to  us,  and  never 
looked  up.     One  woman  was  a  German  from  Saxony. 
We  talked  about  her  old  home  near  Dresden,  a  village 
which  I  knew,  and  she  was   full  of  reminiscences  of 
the  place.     She  had  married  a  Russian,  a  tradesman, 
and  settled  in  Moscow.     He  had  faUed,  and  left  her 
penniless.     When  I  asked  her  why  she  had  not  gone 
back  to  Saxony  after  losing  her  husband,   "  Ah  !  no," 
she  said,  tearfully,  "  I   could  not  go  away  ;  my  hus- 
band is  buried  here,  and  then  my  children  too— I  had 
four— they  are  all  dead,  and  they  all  lie  near  Moscow 
—how  could  I  go  away  and  leave   them   all  behind 
me  ?     You  see  I  am  in  the  midst  of  them  here !" 
What  a  solace  to  the  old  affections  !     In  Saxony  she 
would  have  been  lost— in  the  Hospice  of  Moscow  she 
was  ^'in  the  midst  of  her  children." 

In  the  rooms  appropriated  to  those  women  who 
were  failing  there  were  fewer  than  in  those  of  the  men, 
and  these  did  not  take  to  their  bed  as  the  latter  did! 


THE  HOSPITAL. 


287 


They  managed  to  find  occupation  with  their  tea  and 
talk,  and  in  small  employments  suited  to  their  nature, 
and  kept  up  longer.  These  small  occupations,  what  a 
blessing  they  are  to  poor  humanity,  and  what  a  loss 
it  is  to  men  that  they  have  few  or  none  such  for  their 
old  age  or  illness  !  Happy  the  man  who  can  turn  his 
mind  to  small  things  as  well  as  large  ones.  The  day 
comes  when  he  finds  an  interest  in  the  former  for 
his  health  and  enjoyment  of  life,  when  his  powers  of 
study,  of  teaching,  of  mental  activity  are  waning — 
when  liis  day  of  great  things  is  past.  How  much  of 
simple  happiness,  I  often  think,  could  men  find  in 
their  old  age,  if  in  their  youth  they  were  taught  some 
manual  work — some  small  operation  requiring  care  in 
detail,  sucli  as  carpentering,  or  book-binding,  or  shoe- 
making,  or  netting!  Women  have  their  unfailing 
needlework — what  have  men?  Smoking!  What  a 
stupid  resource ! 

Our  way  from  this  part  of  the  building  led  through 
the  church  into  the  hospital  half  of  the  establishment. 
It  was  empty  at  that  hour,  but  every  morning  there 
is  service  in  it,  and  all  of  the  old  people  who  can  at- 
tend do  so,  but  there  is  no  compulsion.  Very  many 
are  not  able  to  hobble  so  far. 

In  the  hospital  part  the  doctor  was  in  his  own  par- 


si 


288 


SANITARY  ARRANGEMENTS. 


THE  GOVERNOR  S  ROOM. 


289 


ticular  element.     Here  the  same  order  was  observed 
— the  men  downstairs  and  the  women  on  the  upper 
floor.    The  detail  of  this  part  of  the  Hospice  was  more 
elaborate  than  the  other,  for  here  every  modern  re- 
quisite was  supplied  in  the  promotion  of  cleanliness 
and   comfort   for   the  dymg  persons  who  were    re- 
moved here  at  the  last.     Evidently  this  part  of  the 
institution   was  very  carefully  looked  after,  and  the 
bath-rooms  were  particularly  cheerful,  as  were  those 
in  which  the  poor  old  people  were  to  end  their  days. 
There  were  nurses  moving  about  with  that  noiseless 
step  and  composed  manner  so  peculiar  to  the  genus, 
and  which  tell  so  clearly  of  a  thorough  knowledo-e 
of    their    business.      In  various    rooms  were   small 
kitchen   stoves   for  the    easy  and  rapid  preparation 
of  restoratives  of  the  sinkmg  strength  of  the  sick  and 
the  dymg.      In  one  room  were  three  or  four  beds, 
all  occupied  by  old  men  too  ill  to   remain  in  the 
larger  rooms.     Here,  with  the  coverlets  drawn  over 
their  heads,  they  lay  still,  awaiting  the  final  hour,  and 
a  few  days  more  would  see  them  all  carried  away  to 
their  last  home  in  the  cemetery. 

In  this  part  of  the  building  were  some  apartments 
used  as  a  general  hospital  for  the  sick  of  the  better 
classes  in  the  city.     There  were  some  ladies  in  the  fe- 


male departments ;  and  in  one  room  for  men  were 
three  persons  in  bed,  young  men,  all  of  them  members 
of  noble  families  of  Moscow.  The  manager  whis- 
pered to  me  "  that  there  were  many  noble  families 

very  poor."     After  ivhat  the  Count  L had  told 

me  of  the  subdivision  of  property  this  was  not  difficult 
to  understand.  There  w^ere  beds  for  one  hundred 
men,  and  the  same  number  of  women  in  this  general 
hospital,  but  there  were  only  a  few  occupied. 

This  happened  to  be  the  first  day  of  September^ 
and  this  being  the  day  of  distribution  of  money  to 
poor  pensioners,  I  entered  the  room  of  the  governor 
of  the  institution  at  the  moment  that  this  was  going 
on.  This  was  the  public  and  official  apartment,  one 
of  noble  proportions  on  the  ground-floor.  Full- 
length  portraits  of  the  Czars  Alexander,  Nicholas,  and 
the  second  Alexander,  were  on  the  walls ;  and  the 
usual  long  "  board  of  green  cloth  "  stretched  down  the 
centre  of  the  room  for  the  uses  of  the  "  council  of  ad- 
ministration." In  a  corner  was  the  private  table  of  the 
Governor  of  the  institution,  a  fine  old  man,  tall  and 
soldierly — a  general  officer.  He  invited  me  in  a  cor- 
dial and  frank  way  to  a  seat,  and  we  sat  and  talked 
over  the  Hospice,  while  his  secretary  at  a  far-off  door 
received  and  despatched  the  claimants  of  the  pensions. 

u 


290 


EXPENSES  OF  THE  HOSPICE. 


SOCIETY  FRATERNELLE. 


291 


Tliese  were  principally  women,  in  number  about  two 
hundred ;  and  among  them,  in  the  course  of  the  year, 
is  distributed  the  sum  of  ten  thousand  silver  roubles — 
equal  to  about  one  thousand  five  hundred  pounds  ster- 
ling. On  my  asking  the  Governor  wliat  were  the  qua- 
lifications for  entrance  into  the  Hospice  as  well  as  for 
the  pension  list,  he  said, 

"•  The  applications  for  both  are  not  very  numerous, 
so  many  people  of  the  decent  class  being  disinclined  to 
tell  the  tale  of  their  distress.  Indeed,  we  keep  a  man 
whose  business  it  is  to  seek  out  deserving  persons  in 
want,  and  this  man,  too,  makes  all  inquiries  about 
those  who  do  apply  to  us  of  their  own  accord.  None 
under  a  certain  age  can  come  into  the  Hospice,  and 
helplessness  and  poverty  are  the  principal  claims  ad- 
vanced. Of  course  a  certain  respectability  of  charac- 
ter is  requisite  ;  but,"  said  the  General,  ''  misfortune 
is  the  principal  qualification  for  both,  and  of  that  we 
have  plenty  in  oui-  country  to  fill  many  such  institu- 
tions." 

The  general  expenses  of  the  Hospice,  he  said,  were 
about  thirty  thousand  roubles  per  annum.  Tliere 
was  also  an  expenditure  of  ten  thousand  roubles  on 
the  pensions,  and  in  addition  another  fund  was  pro- 
vided of  ten  thousand  roubles  for  marriage  portions 


i*"^ 


to  meritorious  young  persons,  and  for  donations  to 
deserving  individuals  who  were  impoverished  by  mis- 
fortune. Thus  the  whole  sum  expended  annually 
through  the  Hospice  Sheremaytieff  was  about  fifty 
thousand  roubles ;  and  as  the  estates  and  funds  left 
for  this  munificent  purpose  produced  about  fifty-three 
thousand  roubles  a  year  there  was  a  sum  left  over 
for  repairs  of  buildings.  There  were  about  forty  mar- 
riage gifts  to  girls  in  each  year,  of  one  hundred  rou- 
bles each. 

On  my  referring  to  what  the  general  had  said  of 
the  Hospice  keeping  a  man  to  search  out  respectable 
persons  in  want,  he  observed, 

''  There  is  in  Moscow  a  body  of  men  who  may  be 
allied  a  '  Soci^te  Fraternelle,'  and  who  make  it  their 
business  to  search  out  poor  families,  and  aid  them  by 
advice,  by  money,  by  medical  attendance,  by  better 
food.  These  persons  even  rent  houses  in  different 
parts  of  Moscow,  and  place  in  them  some  of  the  sick 
and  destitute,"  and  the  fine  old  soldier's  eyes  gleamed 
as  he  related  these  proofs  of  the  warm-heartedness 
and  the  active  benevolence  of  his  countrymen.  '^  You 
see,"  he  said,  ''  out  in  the  country,  in  wild  villages, 
our  common  people  are  not  much  looked  after ;  but 

u  2 


292 


RUSSIAN  BENEVOLENCE. 


293 


in  the  towns,  and  especially  in  Moscow,  we  try  to  do 
something  to  make  up  for  this." 

I  could  only  offer  all  my  homage  of  praise  to  such 
noble  acts  of  benevolence  as  that  Hospice,  and  its  ad- 
mirable and  considerate  detail  towards  the  aged  and 
the  helpless,  a  credit  to  any  people  and  any  country. 
Muthought,  as  I  walked  home,  that  this  Hospice,  and 
what  I  had  seen  to-day,  and  what  I  had  heard  of  the 
'*  Societe  Fraternelle  "  of  Moscow,  spoke  volumes  in 
favour  of  the  kindly  nature  of  the  Russian  people, 
and  showed  that  there  is  a  fine  and  noble  side,  as 
well  as  a  vicious  one,  to  the  Russian  character. 


P 


I 


\m 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Vifiit  to  the  Convent  of  Troitsa— Its  Foundation,  Destruction  and  Re- 
establishment — Historical  Reminiscences  connected  with  the  Convent 
—Napoleon's  Attempt  to  seize  the  Building  and  its  Treasures— The 
Patriarch  Philarete's  First  Railway  Journey— The  Town,  the  Valley, 
and  the  Convent— Agricultural  Labour  done  by  Women— The  Col- 
lege and  Churches  of  Vefania— Residence  of  the  Metropolitan  Pla- 
ton— Old  Church— Representation  of  the  Mount  of  Olives— Valuable 
Paintings— The  Tomb  of  Platon— The  Church  of  Gethsemane— An 
Ecclesiastical  Diversion  or  Feint— Appearance  of  the  Metropolitan— 
A  Singular  Monastery— Fanaticism  in  the  Russo-Greek  Church — 
Recluses  in  Underground  Cells — Religion  and  Usefulness. 

"VTO  one  can  go  to  Moscow  without  going  to  Troitsa. 
This  is  an  imperative  duty  on  a  traveller,  for 
Troitsa  is  a  part  of  Moscow  story,  as  it  is  the  Holy  of 
Holies  of  religious  Russia.  It  lies  at  a  distance  of 
forty  wersts,  near  thirty  miles,  due  north  of  the  city. 
This  celebrated  place  is  a  fortress  as  well  as  a  con- 
vent, and  has  fought  its  battles,  stood  its  sieges, 
beaten  off  its  besiegers,  and  unfurled  its  flag  of 
victory.  It  dates  from  the  year  1342,  and  was  found- 
ed by  St.  Sergius,  as  were  so  many  other  convents. 


\ 


294 


CONVENT  OF  TROTTSA. 


Sacked  in  1408  by  the  Tahtars,  underthe  Khan  Edigei, 
it  was    re-established  in   1423,  since  which  time  its 
sacred  precincts  have  been  dishonoured  by  no  hostile 
foot.     In  1 608  it  was  besieged  by  a  force  of  thirty 
thousand  Poles,  but  it  beat  off  all  attacks  for  sixteen 
months,  and  was  then  relieved ;  and  even  so  late  as 
since  the  election  of  the  Romanoff  foniily  to  the  Im- 
perial throne  Troitsa  beat  off  a  body  of  Poles.     On 
two  occasions   its  strong  walls  were  the  refuge  and 
defence  of  Peter  the  Great  and  of  his  half-brother, 
John,  when  boys,  and   when  their  sister  Sophia,  in 
her  intrigues  to  maintain  her  influence  and  her  hold 
on  the  throne,  roused  the  Pretorian  Streltsi  in  her 
fiivour ;  and  here   Natalia,  the  mother  of  Peter,   re- 
tained him  in  secret  until  the  ambitious  and  able  So- 
phia was  put  down  and  incapacitated  from  further  mis- 
chief by  imprisonment  for  her  life.     In  1812  the  Em- 
peror Napoleon  sent  out  from  Moscow  on  more  than 
one  occasion  a  body  of  his  troops    with  orders  to 
seize  Troitsa  and  its  treasures,  but  something  always 
prevented  the  troops  from  reaching  it.     The  priests 
and  the  devotees  declare  that  it  was  the  Virgin  and 
St.  Sergius  combined  who  threw  obstacles  in  the  way 
of  the  expedition,  and  rendered  it  futile,  before  the 
troops  got  half  way.     Of  course  this  is  the  true  ex- 


VISIT  TO  TROITSA. 


205 


planation  of  the  matter ;  but  there  are  some  foolish 
people  who  say  that,  as  there  was   a  heavy  body  of 
Russians   placed  by  the   commander-in-chief  on   the 
Twer  road  to  the  north-west,  and  another  on  the  Vla- 
dimir road  to  the  north-east,  and  as  these  two  joined 
hands  across  the  Troitsa  road,  which  ran   due  north 
half-way  between  them.  Napoleon  s  men  found  it  not 
convenient  to  pass  the  line  of  these  Russian  bodies,  as 
they  might  not  have  got  back  again.     So  the  Troitsa 
treasures  remained  untouched.     As  the  convent  once 
possessed  over  one  hundred  thousand  serfs  it  may  be 
imagined  the  treasures  were  worth  an  effort  on  the  part 
of  Napoleon  ;  they  are,  in  fact,  something  astounding 
in  gold  and  silver  and  jewels  ;  but  thirty  miles  are  a 
long  road  for  weakened  and  disheartened  troops,  with 
the  Virgin  and  St.  Sergius  very  angry  in  front,  and 
two  armies  of  highly-fed  and  fierce  undaunted  sol- 
diery shaking  hands  across  it. 

One  day  in  conversation  with  the  English  Consul 
he  very  kindly  proposed  that  his  son,  a  very  intelli- 
gent young  man,  and  a  capital  Russian  scholar,  should 
be  my  companion  to  Troitsa  for  a  day.  Could  any- 
thing be  more  well-timed  and  advantageous?  So  one 
morning  my  young  friend  and  I  started  by  an  early 
train,  and  at  ten  o'clock  we  were  at  Troitsa.     As  we 


296 


THE  PATRIARCH  AND  THE  RAILWAY. 


TROITSA. 


297 


went  my  companion  said  that  this  railway  was  at  first 
strongly  objected  to  by  the  Church  party,  as  the  Pope 
at  Rome  had  done  at  first  in  the  case  of  his  railway  • 
and  when  it  was  completed  the  Patriarch  Philarete,  an 
old  gentleman  imbued  with  anti-railway  ideas,  as  being 
anti-Church,  and  convinced  that  this  iron  road  was  a 
very  levelling  invention,  had  declared  he  would  not 
travel  by  it.     But  at  last,  finding  that  the  sovereign 
and  nobles  travelled  by  it,  and  that  even  priests  did 
so  without  any  open  demonstration  of  displeasure  on 
the  part  of  the  Virgin  or  St.  Sergius,  he  was  coaxed 
into  trying  it  too.     A  small  favoured  few  went  witli 
him  from  Moscow  to  Troitsa ;   and  when  he  found 
how  very  easy  and  smooth  and  swift  he  moved  along 
through  the   country,   his  face,    at  first   serious  and 
troubled,  as  if  he  were  undertaking  a  very  doubtful 
matter  which  might  bring  on  him  a  judgment  and  a 
punishment,  gradually  relaxed  and  brightened.     After 
a  time  one  of  his  companions,  observing  the  effect  on 
him,   ventured  to  ask   him   what  he    thought  of  it  ? 
This  wa^  a  posing  question  to  a  man  in  a  state  of 
mind  half  way   from   objection   to  satisfaction;  but 
being,  as  he  was,  a  man  of  ability  and  not  narrowed 
beyond  a  certain  legitimate  point  by  prejudices,  not 
blind  to  realities,  he  shook  his  head  kindly  and  re- 


plied,  *^It  is  very  clever."     From  this  time  he  tra- 
velled by  it  always. 

Troitsa  is  a  large  village,  or  small  town.  A  steep- 
sided  winding  valley  runs  through  the  country,  and 
on  one  side  of  this  is  the  little  straggling  town,  on  the 
other  the  convent.  The  valley,  with  a  small  stream 
at  the  bottom,  winds  round  three  sides  of  a  hill,  and  "^ 
on  this  height  the  lofty  walls  of  the  convent,  thirty 
feet  high,  with  many  towers,  rise  grandly  and  well- 
defined  into  the  air.  The  valley  forms  a  natural 
broad  deep  ditch  to  the  fortress  on  the  three  sides, 
and  on  the  fourth  the  ponderous  wall  runs  over  an 
open  level  space,  long  and  broad.  On  this  open 
space  are  many  carriages  and  droschkies  for  hire, 
numerous  booths  of  small  commodities  for  sale,  and 
some  considerable  buildings,  consisting  of  hotels, 
stables,  and  a  few  shops  and  common  houses,  the 
whole  dependent  on  the  convent  for  existence.  The 
convent  is  the  life  of  the  place. 

On  arriving  at  the  station  we  found  a  considerable 
collection  of  people,  and  heard  that  by  good  fortune 
this  was  a  day  of  some  importance,  a  day  on  which  a 
certain  church  or  shrine  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
the  convent  was  open  to  the  entrance  of  women — the 
only  day  in  the  whole  year  on  which  they  were  not 


t>¥,. 


298 


VEFANIA. 


THE  METROPOLITAN  PLATON. 


2D9 


excluded.  My  companion  and  I  agreed  that  \vc 
would  take  a  carriage  and  drive  to  the  unlocked-for- 
a-day  shrine,  and  also  to  one  or  two  other  sacred  spots 
in  the  neighbourhood,  and  finish  with  the  convent. 
"  For,"  said  my  companion,  "  when  once  we  are  in 
the  convent  we  shall  never  get  out  again  in  time  for 
anything  else." 

So  we  drove  to  a  small  village  called  Vefania,  in 
Russian— Bethany,  in    English.     This    is  about    two 
miles   from  Troitsa.     The    country   was   picturesque 
with  woods  and  hills,  and  as  we  approached  Wfania 
there  were  long  sheets  of  water  in  wooded  hollows   a 
pretty  succession  of  small  lakes.     The  people  in  num- 
bers were  in  the  fields,  heavy  with  the  ripe  corn  ;  but 
I   observed   that  all   these   labourers   were    women, 
reapers  and  gatherers   into   slieaves,    a   sight   which 
wounds  the  eyes.     It  is  a  bad  sign  of  a  country  and 
its  civilized  condition  Avhen  women  do  the  liard  work 
in  the  fields,  and   the  men  idle  in  the  villages  with 
brandy  and  tobacco. 

Vefania  stood  on  a  high  bank,  at  the  extremity  of 
the  lakes,  and  consisted  but  of  a  few  buildin^rg    which 
might  almost  be  summed  up  in  these— a  colleo-o    two 
churches,  and  a  diminutive  dwelling-house.     The  col- 
lege was  a  considerable  white  building,  now  empty. 


It  had  been  once  occupied  by  students  for  the 
church  in  the  days  of  the  former  and  famous  Metro- 
politan, Platon.  Passing  this  we  arrived  at  a  pretty 
gateway  with  a  quaint  tower  above  it,  beyond  which, 
in  a  grass  inclosure,  stood  the  two  churches,  a  new 
one  and  an  old  one,  and  a  dwelling-house.  This 
house  was  of  the  most  modest  dimensions,  consisting 
of  but  two  or  three  rooms  on  one  storey.  What  a 
quiet  and  retired  and  pretty  spot  it  was  !  The  gate- 
way, the  iron  railings  painted  and  gilded,  the  quaint 
old  church,  the  bright  new  one,  the  little  house  with 
a  fountain  in  its  front — all  encircling  the  grass  plot. 
This  had  been  the  favourite  place  of  residence  of  the 
once  famous  Platon.  In  these  few  rooms  he  had 
lived,  in  this  rural  spot,  with  his  books,  his  windows 
looking  over  his  small  garden  to  the  lakes  and  the 
woods  and  the  towers  of  Troitsa,  with  his  little  church 
beside  him  and  the  college  which  he  had  built  close  at 
hand,  and  in  which  the  education  of  young  men  gave 
him,  the  learned  man,  a  daily  interest.  By  the  fountain 
was  an  inscription  to  the  effect  "  that  here  the  Emperor 
Paul," — eccentric  and  unhappy  Paul — ''  with  his  Em- 
press and  children  had  one  day  come  and  paid  a  visit  to 
Platon,  and  had  dined  with  him  in  the  room  upstairs." 
How  happy  and  how  peaceful  seemed  the  picture, 


300 


platon's  residence. 


as  one  imagined  the  monarch  and  the  bishop  talking 
as  men,   with  the  prattle  of  children  aromid  then! 
-the  quiet  meeting  and  sociable  hour-and  then  con- 
trasted it  with  the  troubled  life  and  end  full  of  horror 
of  the  erratic  and  unfortunate  Czar,  only  a  man,  and 
not  a  monarch!     We  went  up  into  the  rooms.     They 
were  exquisitely  neat  and  bright  and  sunny,  long  and 
rather  narrow,  the  dra^ving-room  within  the  dining- 
room.     They  looked  like  a  pretty  French  apartment 
m  the  suburb  of  Passy  or  St.  Germain.     The  carpet 
and  chairs  were  all  of  light  cottage  patterns,  the  latter 
with  chintz-covered  cushions.     Water-coloured  paint- 
ings of  French   scenery  by  French   pencils,   in   the 
style  of  Watteau,  were  numerous  on  the  walls.     The 
walls  were  hung  with  paper,  also  of  cottage  patterns. 
The  view  from  the  ^vindows,  of  wood,  and  water,  and 
wavy  fields,  was  charming,  and  the  rooms  had  a  feel- 
ing of  home  and  repose  about  them  which  gave  one  a 
happy  idea  of  the  great  Metropolitan,  a  man  of  bright 
and  genial  mind  and  refined  tastes.     To  be  sure  the 
sleeping-room  was  a  curiously  small  closet  at  one  end 
of  the  drawing-room,  just  big  enough  for  a  pallet  bed 
and  a  diminutive  table  and  a  chair.     It  looked  as  if 
the  great  ecclesiastic  had  wished  to  keep  often  around 
him  what  would  remind   him   of  the   first  and  early 


THE  OLD  CHURCH. 


301 


h 


days  of  his  career,  when  he  was  but  a  simple  servitor 
of  the  church.  At  one  end  of  the  eating-room  was 
the  door  into  the  drawing-room,  and  at  the  other  was 
one  opening  on  to  a  gallery  or  small  corridor  looking 
into  the  church.  The  library  was  a  small  room  from 
the  dining  apartment,  and  here  were  still  his  famous 
theses  in  Latin  on  a  table.  The  whole  had  the  air  of 
being  only  left  for  a  day  or  two,  and  Platon  expected 
back. 

The  old  church  within  the  precincts  of  Platon's 
residence  was  a  small  quaint  building,  now  rarely 
used.  There  was  no  flight  of  steps  to  it.  You 
entered  at  once  on  the  ground  into  a  corridor  rimning 
all  round  and  enclosing  a  circular  hall,  and  fully  half 
this  hall,  right  across  in  front  from  side  to  side,  was 
occupied  by  a  fanciful  construction  representing  the 
Mount  of  Olives  at  Jerusalem.  This  was  the  Bethany 
of  the  place.  Here  were  all  the  usual  and  appropri- 
ate indentations  of  the  ground,  small  hills  and  valleys, 
corn-fields  and  grass,  with  olive-trees  and  shrubs,  and 
over  which  cattle  and  sheep  were  scattered,  and 
shepherds,  and  a  procession  of  people  on  a  pathway. 
There  were  very  few  figures  now  remaining,  but  the 
priest  said  that  there  had  once  been  hundreds,  but 
that  people  had  stolen  them  one  by  one,  carrying  them 


302 


THE  TOMB  OF  PLATON. 


off  as   something   sacred.     The    ''Mount"  was   full 
twenty  feet  long  and  twelve  feet  high,  rising  from  the 
floor  to  the  level  of  a  gallery  which  ran  round  the 
church  over  the  corridor  below,  and  must  once  have 
been  a  very  elaborate  and  clever  production  of  the 
devout  artist.     It  was  done  by  a  Greek  monk  wlio 
had  been  in  the  convent   at  Jerusalem.      Now  the 
whole  thing  was   faded,  dilapidated,  and  dirty,   and 
the  new  and  larger  church  hard  by,  with  its  fresh 
gilding  and  brilliant  priests,  was  taking  away  all  wor- 
shippers from  the  old  decaying  one  which  was  now 
but  a  relic  of  the  past.     In  the  corridor  below  there 
was  a  ''  Descent  from  the  Cross,"  by  Rubens,  presented 
by  a  Count  Souwaroff;  and   a  ''Holy   Family"    of 
Correggio,  given  by  the  Prince  Potemkin  ;  but  these 
were  scarcely  visible  in  the  dingy,  ill-lighted  passage, 
and  were  fading  with  the  rest  of  the  build  in  <>•.     In  the 
crypt  at  the  back  of  the  "  Mount  of  Olives  "  was  the 
tomb  of  Platon,  his  effigy  in  marble,  his  robes  in  cases. 
The  face  was  declared  to  be  an  exact  likeness.     The 
head  and  forehead  were  fine,  broad,  and  massive,  and 
the  mouth  full  and  genial,  realizing  the  man  of  profound 
religious  theses  in  the  morning  in   the  study,  and  of 
easy  bright    companionship   at   dinner   time    in    the 
afternoon  in  the  pretty  rooms  of  St.  Germain   with 


GETIISEMANE. 


303 


Watteau  pictures  and  chintz  cushions.  So  the  name 
of  Bethany  remains,  but  the  spirit  of  the  place  is 
<rone,  and  Platon's  tomb  and  robes  are  in  dust  and  dirt. 

AVe  drove  from  this  to  "Gethsemane" — from  the  past 
to  the  present.  This  is  a  church  founded  in  1845  by 
Philarete,  then  the  Metropolitan  of  Moscow,  and  was 
in  all  its  glor3\  Women  are  only  admitted  on  one 
day,  the  29th  of  August,  which  is  dedicated  to  the 
ascent  of  the  Virghi  into  heaven.  Now  "  Bethany  " 
was  still  and  sleeping,  and  "Gethsemane"  was  all 
alive  and  awake.  At  the  gates  of  the  enclosure  were 
crowds  of  carriages  and  people,  and  a  small  im- 
promptu town  of  vendors  of  fruit,  wine,  and  kvas, 
and  vodka  and  tea,  formed  a  small  fair  for  a  busy 
trade.  Within  the  gate  was  a  grass  enclosure,  with 
two  churches  and  other  pretty  buildings  and  gardens, 
and  these  stretched  down  to  a  shrubbery  and  a 
shaded  valley,  with  fine  trees  and  a  stream  of  water 
with  rustic  bridges  and  seats,  a  pleasant  ecclesiastic 
retreat  from  Moscow  and  Troitsa.  Clearly  the  Geth- 
semane of  to-day  was  a  rival  of  Bethany  of  yesterday. 
The  enclosure  was  filled  with  people,  principally 
women  ;  the  sex  had  taken  advantage  of  its  one  day  of 
admission  and  mustered  strong. 

My  companion  and  I  at  once  went  into  the  church. 


304 


INTERIOR  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


A  FEINT. 


305 


t 


in  which  the  service  was  going  on.     We  found  it  full 
to  overflowing,  and  could  hardly  make  our  way  in. 
It  was  curiously  built.     We  entered  on  a  raised  plat- 
form, with  an  exit  at  either  extremity,  and  from  this 
platform   two  staircases,  of  about  twenty  steps  each 
descended  by  the  walls  down  into  the  body  of  the 
church  below,  having  its  Ikonostas  on  that  lower  level. 
There  was   a  gallery  and  another  Ikonostas  above, 
so  that  there  was  in  fact  a  kind  of  double  church— one 
above,  one  below.     The  lower  church  was  now  in 
use.     We  found  all  the  platform  crowded,  both  stair- 
cases crammed  with  people,  and  also  the  body  of  the 
place  below  and  the  gallery  above.     The  gates  of  the 
Ikonostas  were  closed,  incense  was  rising  from  within 
it,  and  the  fine  deep  tones  of  the  priests  rose  and  fell 
as  the  service  proceeded.     Occasionally  the  body  of 
rich  sound  ceased,  and  then  a  thin,  weak,  but  rather 
musical  voice  chanted  a  few  sentences,  and  was  again 
succeeded    by   the   powerful   voices   of  the    priests 
in  a  mass  of  sound  like  that  of  an  organ.     Many  of 
the  people  had  books,  and  were  very  attentive.     The 
weak,  thin  voice— was  it  that  of  the   Metropolitan 
Philarefe?  my  companion  inquired;    but  some  said 
^^Yes,"  and  some   said  ^^No."    At  last  the   service 
came  to  an  end,  and  then  commenced  a  scene  of  ex- 


traordinary confusion.  The  moment  the  gates  of  the 
Ikonostas  opened,  an  elderly  priest  came  out,  and 
there  was  a  general  movement  to  kiss  his  hand.  The 
crush  was  so  great  that  we  thought  it  better  to  get  out 
and  see  the  Metropolitan  go  by  out  of  doors  from  the 
one  church  to  the  other,  as  we  were  informed  he 
would  do.  So  we  went  out,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
he  appeared  at  the  head  of  a  procession  of  priests,  the 
people  forming  a  lane.  But  as  he  was  not  very  old, 
and  was  rather  strong  and  sturdy,  w^e  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  after  all  this  was  not  the  Metropolitan, 
particularly  as  we  heard  a  service  still  going  on  in  the 
church.     So  we  went  back  again. 

On  our  re-entering  the  church,  we  found  that  the 
Papa  and  the  procession  had  been  only  a  kind  of  feint 
— a  diversion  of  the  throng  from  the  Metropolitan. 
He  was  still  within  the  Ikonostas,  as  we  were  quietly 
informed  by  an  attendant.  Only  a  few  people  were 
in  the  church,  on  the  platform,  on  the  stairs,  and  in 
the  galleries.  As  the  time  and  .occasion  seemed 
propitious,  there  was  now  an  attempt  to  get  the 
Metropolitan  out.  But  now  commenced  a  more  ex- 
traordinary scene  than  the  former  one.  The  moment 
that  the  gilded  doors  were  opened  and  the  old  man 
with  his  white  hair  and  thin  face  appeared,  there  was 


.L 


306 


EXTRAORDINARY  SCENE. 


THE  METROPOLITAN. 


307 


a  rush  from  all  quarters  towards  him.  The  smoke  of 
the  incense  still  filled  the  Ikonostas,  and  in  the  midst 
of  this  cloud  appeared  five  or  six  men,  the  old  man  in 
front,  erect  and  noble-looking,  clad  in  white,  with  a 
crozier  of  silver  with  precious  stones  projecting  from 
a  blue  velvet  case  in  his  hand,  and  priests  around  him. 
Four  men  in  a  rich  blue  and  silver  livery  now  ap- 
proached, one  supporting  hira  on  either  side,  and  two 
in  front  to  clear  the  way.  But  the  first  step  the  Me- 
tropolitan made  down  into  the  church  was  the  signal 
for  a  fight.  The  people  fairly  dashed  at  the  old  man 
to  seize  his  hands  and  kiss  them,  and  had  it  not  been 
for  the  two  supporting  servants  he  must  have  been 
thrown  down  in  the  rush.  The  two  men  in  front 
were  fairly  overpowered  and  hurled  back  on  the 
others,  and  the  whole  party  looked  as  if  they  would 
come  in  the  melee  to  the  ground.  Then  the  two 
leaders,  savage  at  this  discomfiture,  caught  hold  of 
the  people,  men  and  women,  indiscriminately,  and 
threw  them  one  on  the  other,  breaking  out  into  loud 
abuse  of  these  zealous  devotees.  In  the  midst  of  this 
the  old  man  struggled  on,  or  rather  the  liveried  at- 
tendants bore  him  along,  passive  in  their  hands,  his 
thin  white  hands  every  now  and  then  appearing 
above  the  heads  of  the  throng,  and   rapidly  making 


crosses  till  seized  and  dragged  down  again  into  the 
crowd  of  bending  heads.  When  the  women  had  suc- 
ceeded, in  spite  of  furious  men  and  raging  attendants, 
in  kissing  the  white  hands,  they  fell  back  in  a  dis- 
hevelled condition,  caps  and  garments  all  awry,  and, 
breathless  and  happy,  went  off  in  knots  into  cor- 
ners, put  each  other  to  rights,  and  told  of  their 
victories.  The  men  walked  grandly  off,  shook  their 
shock  heads,  and  gave  themselves  a  general  convul- 
sion after  the  fight,  like  Newfoundland  dogs  on 
emerging  from  water.  How  the  old  man  got  up  the 
stairs  I  do  not  know,  for  an  attendant  piteously 
begged  us  to  go  off  the  platform,  and  let  the  Metropo- 
litan come  up  and  get  out.  My  companion  and  I  of 
course  went  out,  that  is,  we  suffered  ourselves  to  be 
carried  hither  and  thither  by  the  swaying  mass  of 
outsiders,  who  had  found  out  what  was  going  on  in- 
side, and  were  resolved  on  getting  in  to  share  in  the 
blessings  their  friends  were  receiving  from  the  aged 
chiefs  hands.  We  gained  with  difficulty  a  corner  on 
a  staircase  by  the  outer  porch  leading  up  to  the  colle- 
giate  rooms  above,  and  here  we  waited  until  the  old 
man  came  by.  Presently  he  appeared,  a  wreck,  help- 
lessly borne  along  by  the  two  men  in  livery,  surging 
masses  before  and  behind,  while  the  two  attendants 

x2 


308 


%  CHARACTER  OF  PHILARETE. 


who  cleared  the  way  were  by  this  time  red  and 
streaming  with  perspiration  from  their  exertions, 
savage  with  the  difficulties  they  liad  to  encounter, 
and  utterly  reckless  of  all  decorum  or  considera- 
tion towards  men  or  women.  How  they  fought  !— 
off  the  platform,  through  the  porch,  down  the  steps, 
and  out  at  last  into  the  open  air.  It  was  exactly  Hke 
a  rouge  at  football  under  the  playing-fields  wall  at 
Eton.  The  scene  at  the  Simonoff  Convent  on  the 
day  of  the  fair,  when  the  Superior  walked  along  the 
paved  way  from  his  lodgings  to  the  church,  was  one 
of  violent  devotion  strange  to  witness  ;  but  this  scene 
at  ''  Gethsemane  "  left  it  far  in  the  rear  in  its  fanatical 
furv. 

Poor  old  gentleman!  this  was  among  his  last 
earthly  triumphs— if  so  it  can  be  called— a  triumph 
of  his  popularity — an  occasion  for  the  ardent  ex- 
pression of  the  people's  love  towards  hhn.  He  is 
now  gone  to  his  rest.  Philarete  was  an  amiable  and 
an  able  and  devoted  man,  a  good  scholar,  a  man  of  a 
liberal  tone  of  thought,  given  to  enjoy  the  literature 
of  other  countries  and  the  conversation  of  forein-ners 
Like  a  patriarch  of  old  he  has  been  gathered  to  his 
fathers,  full  of  years  and  of  honours. 

My  companion  and  I  took  a  quiet  way  across  the 


THE  FLORENCE  NIGHTINGALE  OF  M^'COW.    309 

grassy  enclosure  to  the  shrubby  valley,  and  the  mur- 
muring stream,  and  the  shady  fir-trees.  How  quiet 
it  all  was  after  the  savage  religious  drama  enacted  in 
the  church !  As  we  went,  we  met  various  little 
groups  of  persons  sauntering  about  in  the  valley  and 
on  the  lawns,  some  of  them  acquaintances  of  my  com- 
panion. Among  the  latter  was  one  lady,  small,  still 
youthful,  neatly  dressed,  and  with  a  cheerful  coun- 
tenance, pleasing  from  the  expression  of  goodness  on 
it.  As  we  strolled  along  I  asked  him  who  this  lady 
was. 

^'  That  lady,"  said  he,  ^'  is  a  very  remarkable  per- 
son. She  is  the  Florence  Nightingale  of  Moscow — 
the  life  and  soul  of  many  of  the  best  charities  of 
the  city ;  she  is  always  occupied,  and  whatever  she 
undertakes  she  does  well.  She  spends  her  fortune 
and  her  time  in  these  things." 

On  my  expressing  a  wish  to  have  known  her  and 
seen  her  in  Moscow,  he  said  she  was  only  here  for  a 
day  on  a  holiday — the  Women's  Day  at  Gethsema- 
ne. I  could  not  help  a  regret  at  thus  missing  an 
opportunity  of  being  acquainted  with  a  lady  so  excel- 
lent and  so  estimable.  In  the  midst  of  all  the  cor- 
^ruption  and  the  gambling  in  high  places,  and  the 
depravity  and   fanaticism    of    the    lower    classes    in 


■ « 


!     . 


310 


UNDERGROUND  MONASTERY. 


CELLS  OF  THE  RECLUSES. 


311 


Moscow,  it  was  evident  there  wa^  also  a  warm  and 
lofty  spirit  of  benevolence,  a  refining  and  large- 
hearted  tenderness  for  others  in  the  Russian,  not 
surpassed  in  any  people  or  in  cities  of  more  civil- 
ized countries.  There  must  be  a  tone  of  mind  wor- 
thy of  a  great  nation  where  such  things  are  done, 
and  where  such  persons  live  and  use  their  time  and 
means  as  this  lady,  and  the  SheremaytiefF,  and  the 
Galitzin,  and  many  others  of  their  class. 

Across  the  wooded  valley  was   a  singular    place 
—a   kind   of  monastery,    part    of  it   above   ground 
and   part  underground.     We   purchased  each  of  us 
a  taper  of  a  man  at  the  head  of  a  flight  of  steps, 
many  other  persons  doing  the  same,  and  descended, 
headed  by  an  attendant,  into  a  cavernous  place,  re- 
minding one  of  the  catacombs  at  Rome  on  a  small 
scale.     In  this  we  followed  corridor  after  corridor, 
narrow  and  low,  now  emerging  into  a  small  chapel, 
then  into  a  cavern  with  a  fountain,   and  then  into 
a  cave  where  was  a  well.     As  we  went  we  passed 
many  a  door  in  the  rocky  side.     These  doors  were 
the  entrances  into  small  caves  or  cells  inhabited  by 
monks,  recluses  from  the  world.     Fanaticism  is  so 
fostered  in  the  Greek  Church  that  it  results  in  some 
cases  in  the  production  of  hermits  and  anchorites,  as 


in  the  days  of  St.  Anthony.  Here,  in  this  nineteenth 
centurv,  were  men  who  had  shut  themselves  up  from 
the  world  in  dark  caves  underground  for  years, 
thinking  they  were  doing  God  service.  They  were 
voluntary  recluses.  On  passing  one  closed  door,  the 
attendant  said, 

"The  man  in  there  has  been   shut  up  for  eight 

years  without  going  out." 

On  coming  to  another  door,  we  found  it  open. 

''  Ah  !"  said  the  attendant,  ''  that  man  has  been  in 
there  for  thirteen  years,  but  he  is  gone  out  to-day  to 

the  fete:' 

We  went  in,  and  found  that  the  place  consisted  of 
an  outer  cell  and  two  inner  ones.  Both  doors  were 
open,  and  in  one  of  these  was  nothing  but  a  pallet 
bedstead  and  a  chair. 

"  The  man  who  was  in  there  died,"  said  the  at- 
tendant ;  "  ho  was  in  there  a  good  many  years,  and  a 
little  time  since  he  died." 

The  other  cell  was  furnished.  These  cells  were 
about  ten  feet  long  by  eight  broad,  and  six  in  height. 
There  was  a  chimney  to  each  and  a  small  stove. 
The  furniture  consisted  of  a  wooden  pallet  bedstead, 
with  a  straw  mattress  and  a  coverlet.  There  was  a 
chair,  a  small  stock  of  wood  in  a  corner,  two  or  three 


^1 


312 


AN  UNPRODUCTIVK  LIFE. 


313 


eartlienAvare  pots  for  cooking-in  one  of  them  some 
scraps  of  fish— and  a  few  stained  and  worn  books  of 
prayer  on  a  shelf     In  a  corner  was  the  never-omitted 
little  picture,  or  image,  as  it  is  called  in  Russia,  of  the 
Virgin.     What  a  den  for  a  human  being  to  occupy 
voluntarily  during  thirteen  years !     What  an  empty 
and  unproductive  life,  dragging  vacantly  on  from  day 
to   day   by   the  charity  of  others,  and  giving  back 
not    one   single   act   of    usefulness!      What    is  re- 
ligion, if  it  be  not  useful  ?     What   a  contrast,   me- 
thought,  between  this  man  breathing  away  his  days  in 
ilarkness  and  idle  dreaming,  voluntarUy  shutting  out 
the  bright  sun  which  God  has  given  so  beneficently 
to  his  creatures,  and  letting  the  powers  of  a  Godlike 
reason  and  all  the  wealth  of  human  spnpathies  run 
to   waste,  and  that  little  lady  on  the  lawn  by  the 
church,  so  abounding  in  active  goodness  to  the  poor 
and  the  desolate,  so  bright  an   example  of  the  capa- 
bility which  even  one  fragile  but  earnest  human  be- 
ing possesses  of  lighting  up  the  hearths  and  warming 
the  hearts  of  the  unfortunate  and  the  unhappy  many" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  New  Investment  for  the  Money  of  Monks — The  Walls  of  the  Monas- 
tery— Spacious  Promenade — Interesting  Serving  Monk — Interior 
of  the  Church — Gaudy  Paintings — Restoration  of  Frescoes  by  an  En- 
thusiastic ^Merchant — An  Ill-advised  Monk — Sale  of  Holy  Water — 
The  Day  of  St.  Serge— 'The  Baker  s  Shop— The  Cathedral— Sale  of 
Candles,  Images,  and  Oil — Rich  Display  of  Pictures,  Gold,  Silver, 
and  Precious  Stones — The  Treasury — Dining  Hall  of  the  Monks — 
Primitive  Hospitality— The  Hospital— The  Dying  Monks— The 
Greek  Monk— Differences  in  Monkish  Life— The  Bloodstained 
Tower — A  Monk's  Cell — Ecclesiastical  Academy — ^The  Troitsa  Con- 
vent a  ^licrocosm. 

MY  companion  and  I  drove  back  to  the  convent. 
It  is  to  be  feared  that  the  monks  of  Troitsa  are 
not  altogether  spiritually-minded,  but  that  a  certain 
amount  of  worldly  leaven  has  leavened  the  whole 
establishment.  At  all  events  there  are  some  men 
among  them  who  possess  what  are  called  practical 
minds.  Perhaps  great  wealth  and  long-continued 
prosperity  have  had  their  usual  effect  even  on  these 
recluses,  and  have  tarnished  a  little  the  purity  of  their 
nature.     Anyhow  there  is  a  large  hotel  on  the  broad 


1! 


314 


WALLS  OF  THE  MONASTERY. 


AN  OLD  MONK. 


315 


square  or  place  immediately  outside  the  convent  walls 
which  hotel  has  been  built  by  the  monks  for  the 
benefit  of  visitors  to  Troitsa,  and  as  a  good  invest- 
ment of  a  portion  of  their  abounding  treasure.  My 
companion  and  I  found  a  good  native  cuisine  at  the 
hostelry,  and  then  went  to  see  the  interior  of  this 
famous  monastery. 

The  walls  have  a  circuit  of  one  mile,  minus  only 
two   hundred   and   sixty  yards.      These  are  battle- 
mented,  and  are  a  grand  and  striking  feature  of  the 
place.     In  some  places,  for  instance  where  they  tra- 
verse the  public  square,  they  reach  a  height  of  over 
thirty  feet,  and  with  the  ditch  below,  form  a  noble 
and   warlike  barrier.     On   other   sides,   where   they 
hang  over  the  narrow,  steep  valley,  their  height  has 
a  still  more  imposing  effect.     On  the  inside  there  is  a 
raised  covered  way,  which  runs  round  the  entire  wall. 
It   is   neatly  paved  with  brick,   and  raised  so  high 
that  those  on  it  can  look  out  through  the  openinf^s  of 
the  battlements.     It  is  about  twenty  feet  in  breadth, 
and  enclosed  on  its  inner  side  by  a  low  wall,  and  thus 
there  is  always  a  spacious  promenade  of  nearly  one 
mile  in  length,  protected  by  its  heavy  tiled  roof  from 
the   heats   of    summer    and    the  snows    of   winter. 
There  are  commanding  views  from  it  over  all  the 


surrounding  country ;  and  beneath  it  are  the  many 
extensive  offices  for  summer  and  winter  stores,  sta- 
bling, and  other  purposes  of  the  convent. 

A  fine  arched  gateway  opens  from  the  public  square 
into  the  outer  courts,  and  entermg  you  find  yourself 
in  the  sacred  precincts — large  grassy  places,  shady 
trees,  paved  pathways,  broad  and  orderly,  churches, 
offices,  halls — a  picturesque  carelessness  of  arrange- 
ment, a  rich  and  beautiful  seclusion,  a  place  of  repose 
and  rest,  of  study  and  meditation.  That  peculiar 
charm  pervades  it  which  one  experiences  on  entering 
a  cathedral.  You  feel  inclined  to  sit  down  and  be 
silent,  and  let  your  spirit  partake  of  the  beauty  and 
the  sentiment  of  the  genius  locL 

My  companion  and  I  followed  a  broad  paved  way 
leading  into  the  centre  of  the  enclosure,  where  were 
scattered  about  the  principal  buildings.  As  we  were 
passing  a  large  church — The  Assumption  of  the  Virgin 
— an  old  man  in  a  monkish  dress  stood  on  the  top  of 
a  flight  of  steps  beneath  the  usual  projecting  porch,  in 
which  there  was  a  mixture  of  Italian  and  Byzantine 
styles  with  a  Norman  arch,  rich,  coloured,  gilded,  bi- 
zarre. There  was  something  more  than  usually  pleasing 
in  the  old  man's  face,  and  while  we  stopped  for  a 
moment  hesitating  whether  we  should  go  on  at  once 


r. 


316 


A  GREEK  CATHEDRAL. 


INTERIOR  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


317 


to  the  churcli  of  the  Trinity— the  cathedral— tlie  slirine 
of  St.  Serge— the  place  of  gold  and  silver,  of  diamonds 
and  of  jewelled  lamps— the  old  man  bowed  and  ad- 
dressed us  in  French.    This  of  course  attracted  us.    In 
reply  to  our  questions  he  said  he  had  once  been  a 
soldier,  and  having  gone  to  Paris   in   1815  Avith  the 
Russian  army  and  the  Czar  Alexander,  he  had  while 
there  picked  up  a  few  French  phrases.     On  retirincr 
from  the  army  on  account  of  a  wound,  lie  liad  entered 
Troitsa  as  a  serving  monk,  and  liad  been  there  ever 
since.     Now  he  took  care  of  this  churcli,   the  largest 
in  the  monastery,  though  not  the  cathedral.     A  Greek 
cathedral  is  not  an  imposing  structure  such  as  are  ours 
in    England,    but    usually  is   only  a  church    rather 
larger  than  others.     No  Latin  or  Teuton  would  call 
the  cathedral  of  the  Kremlin  by  that  title.     The  old 
man  was  now  seventy-five  years  of  age.    He  was  hale, 
hearty,  and  genial,   and  in  his  limited  and   broken 
French  voluble  about  Paris  and  his  military  days. 
Evidently,  in  spite  of  his  many  quiet  years  of  ecclesi- 
astical life  as  a  monkish  servitor  in  Troitsa,  the  stir- 
ring portion  of  his  youth  stood  out  in  his  memory  in 
strong  relief     The   simple   monotony  of  his  latter 
years  seemed  to  have  but  little  interest  for  him  when 
I  questioned  him  on  them  and  their  occupation,  but 


his  eyes  lighted  up  with  animation  and  his  manner  was 
full  of  vivacity  when  the  French  days  and  the  army 
were  alluded  to.  As  is  often  the  case  with  elderly 
persons  the  long-gone  days  and  their  events — and 
such  events  too  ! — had  the  strongest  hold  on  him. 

The  whole  interior  of  the  church  was  brilliant  with 
Greek  painting.  Evidently  there  had  been  lately  a  grand 
restoration  and  a  general  re-painting  of  pictures  on 
a  "reat  scale,  an  unusual  thing  in  the  Russian  churches, 
wliich,  as  a  rule,  it  must  be  said,  are  dingy  and  dirty 
in  their  interior,  though  smart  enough  outside.     The 
liuge  and  massive  square  pillars  in  the  centre  of  the 
clmrch,   wliich    supported  the  cupolas   above,    were 
gaudy  with  masses  of  strong  colour ;    but    the   ex- 
tremity, the  great  wall  at  the  end  facing  the  Ikonos- 
tas,  was  a  marvel.       On  this  lofty,  broad,   and  un- 
broken face  from  pavement  to  roof,  and  from  side  to 
side,  were  two  monstrous  pictures,  frescoes.     A  per- 
pendicular line  in  the  centre  divided  them.     One  re- 
presented Salvation  ;  and    ere  were  gigantic  and  im- 
possible figures  of  hum  an  beings,  defying  all  proportions, 
but  intended  to  express  the  enjoyment  of  ease  and 
happiness,  and  all  going  upwards  to  heaven.  The  other 
represented  Condemnation ;  and  here  were  scenes  of 
,   torment  and  woe  unutterable,  and  figures  of  hapless 


|S! 


318 


RESTORATION  OF  TROITSA. 


THE  LIBERAL  MERCHANT. 


319 


beings   all   plunging  desperately   into  Hades.      But 
the  colouring  and  the  drawing !     The  monstrosity  of 
the  whole  was  an  outrage  on  Art.     These  alarniinfr 
frescoes  are  said  to  be  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
It  appeared  that  a  Moscow  merchant  lately  on  a  visit 
to  Troitsa  had  remarked  the  condition  of  the  convent 
generally,  the  state  of  exterior  dilapidation  of  many 
of  its  buildings,  and  the  dirty  and  faded  interiors  of 
all.     Seized  with  a  religious  fervor  he  declared  his 
intention   to   spend   a   large  sum   of  money  in   the 
restoration  of  Troitsa  generally ;  he  would  repair- 
he  would  paint— he  would  spend  one  hundred  thou- 
sand roubles!     It  was  a  grand   resolution.     It  was 
true  that  the  convent,  being  very  rich,   enormously 
wealthy  in  jewels,  and  receiving  large  sums  of  money 
every    year    from    devotees,    and    having,    besides, 
landed  estates,  might  have  accomplished  these  repairs 
itself,  or,  indeed,  might  have  prevented  the  necessity 
for  them  ;  but  the  money  had  gone  in  other  direc- 
tions,   and   not  in   repairs  and   paint.     There   were 
four   hundred   monks    in    Troitsa,    and   these    were 
not  fed  for  nothing.     Besides  there  were   whispers 
that  some  of  the  money  went  at  times  towards  St. 
Petersburg.     After   all,    why  should  wealthy  devo- 


tees at  Moscow  be  deprived,  by  such  common  vir- 
tues as  monkish  care  and  prudence,  of  a  grand  oppor- 
tunity of  an  act  of  soul-saving  goodness  ?  The  mer- 
chant set  about  his  work  in  good  earnest.  Artists  from 
Moscow  were  sent  down  to  Troitsa,  and  this  church 
was  repaired  and  repainted,  inside  and  out,  and  these 
two  huge  frescoes  were  restored,  by  the  liberality  of 
the  merchant  and  the  genius  of  his  artists.  The  for- 
mer spent  eight  thousand  five  hundred  roubles  on 
this  church.  There  was  a  grand  re-opening,  and  a 
gorgeous  ceremony,  and  everybody  was  happy.  And 
now  the  merchant,  in  the  fulness  of  his  satisfaction, 
was  meditating  on  a  second  work  of  restoration  wor- 
thy of  his  great  intentions,  when,  lo !  some  malevo- 
lent spirit  one  night,  prompted  by  Satan,  whisper- 
ed one  of  the  monks  to  hint  to  him  that  what 
he  was  doing  was  admirable — most  admirable;  but 
still  there  was  ^'  a  small  something "  to  be  done 
about  the  convent  which  was  even  more  important 
than  the  restoration  of  the  churches,  if  he  would 
allow  him  just  to  suggest  it.  ''A  small  some- 
thing !"  How  very  impertinent !  And  this  to  a 
man  ardent  with  grand  ideas!  The  merchant  was 
very  wroth,    and   took   it   as   a  great   offence   that 


)i 


320 


SALE  OF  HOLY  WATER. 


when  he  was  undertaking  such  a  high  and  neces- 
sary work  a  monk  should  suggest  a  diversion  of  liis 
money  to  something  else;  it  was  an  unpardonable 
interference  with  his  intention,  and  he  would  do  no 
more  for  ungrateful  Troitsa.  Miserable  ill-inspired 
monk  !  By  a  few  words  he  had  brushed  awav  over 
ninety  thousand  roubles.  The  merchant  paid  the 
eight  thousand  five  hundred  roubles  for  the  work  of 
the  one  church,  and  refused  to  spend  another  kopeck 
on  the  place. 

Immediately  outside  this  church  was  a  small  and 
graceful  buildings  like  a  diminutive  chapel.  It  was 
circular,  of  red  brick,  with  white  stone  framing  of  the 
windows,  white  arches,  supported  by  slender  twisted 
columns,  and  with  fretted  ornaments — a  composite 
and  fanciful  structure.  Going  round  to  the  door,  we 
found  the  interior  occupied  by  a  monk  keeping  a  little 
shop.  Here  were  photographs  of  people  and  build- 
ings, crosses,  rosaries,  pictures  of  the  Virgin,  carvings 
in  wood,  and  other  wares  of  a  like  kind,  all  in  neat 
glass  cases  on  two  counters.  But  the  chief  and  prin- 
cipal stock  in  trade  of  the  monk  was  water.  This 
was  the  cause  of  all  the  rest.  At  the  far  side  of  tlie 
little  apartment— the  two  counters  on  either  hand- 
there  was  a  well  with  a  three  foot  wall   enclosincr  it. 


THE  HOLY  WATER  OF  TROITSA. 


321 


and  a  silver  bucket  with  rope  and  chain  resting  on  it. 
The  well  was  only  about  ten  feet  deep,  and  the  buck- 
et would  hold  about  two  gallons.  This  was  the  holy 
water  of  Troitsa. 

The  monk  was  a  cheerful  talking  man,  and  gave  us 
a  smiling  welcome  as  we  stepped  into  his  little  circu- 
lar room.  He  said  that  people  came  in  every  day, 
and  most  of  these  purchased  something,  either  an 
image,  or  a  photograph,  or  some  beads,  or  a  locket 
with  portraits  of  two  saints — all  of  which  he  recom- 
mended to  us  in  turn  with  quite  an  engaging,  smiling 
way,  and  a  turn  for  business  worthy  of  the  Rows  in 
the  Kitai  Gorod  at  Moscow,  adding  in  a  hearty  way, 

''  And  then  everybody  drank  some  of  the  water, 
that  they  did  of  course,  even  if  they  bought  nothing, 
and  some  would  carry  it  away  in  little  bottles ;  of 
course  the  water  was  free  of  all  charge — and  we 
would  drink  some,  it  was  so  pure,  and  so  healthy." 

And  with  this  he  dropped  the  silver  bucket  down 
to  the  water,  and  with  two  or  three  smooth  easy  pulls 
at  the  rope,  hand  over  hand,  he  had  it  up  on  the  wall, 
full  and  bright^with  its  sparkling  contents.  It  cer- 
tainly was  delicious — 2i  sweet  clear  water,  and  most 
grateful  on  that  hot  summer  day.  We  asked  him  about 
the  day  of  St.  Serge — that  must  be  a  busy  day  for  him. 


Y 


322 


THE  BAKER  S  SHOP. 


CHURCH  OF  ST.  SERGE. 


323 


^'  Ah !  yes,"  he  replied,  "  that  is  a  great  day,  and 
they  all  come  here  for  the  water,  and  it  has  happened 
more  than  once  that  the  well  has  been  drunk  dry— 
every  drop  used— and  the  bucket  at  last  only  brought 
up  wet  mud;  but  the  people  would  have  it,  even 
that." 

We  carried  off  some  photographs—"  done  in  the 
convent,"  said  the  monk;  "one  of  our  brothers  is  very 
clever  at  it." 

From  this  we  went  on  to  another  small  picturesque 
building,  "  where,"  said  my  companion,  "  the  monks 
sell  loaves  of  a  beautifully  fine  white  bread,  made 
from  wheat  of  their  own  growing  and  grinding ;  lots 
of  people  come  here  almost  every  day  and  buy  these, 
and  then  take  them  into  the  church  of  St.  Serge  and 
have  them  blessed  by  the  priest,  who  picks  off  a  little 
scrap  as  a  toll."  The  baker  s  shop  was  neatness  itself 
A  long  counter  ran  from  end  to  end  of  the  room,  some 
fourteen  or  fifteen  feet,  and  beyond  this  was  a  high  long 
range  of  closets,  with  shelves  and  drawers.  In  these 
were  the  loaves.  Two  or  three  monks  were  standinir 
about  by  the  door  and  the  counter,  but  the  seller  was 
a  young  and  handsome  lad,  scarcely  out  of  his  teens, 
with  long  glistening  hair  parted  in  front  and  waving 
and  curling  down  over  his  shoulders.     He  had  fine 


eyes  and  a  delicate  complexion,  and  in  his  long  plain 
black  dress  he  looked  like  a  woman,  his  face  was  so 
effeminate,  and  his  throat  so  round  and  bare  and 
white.  At  our  request  the  pretty  grave  bread-seller 
produced  various  small  loaves  from  different  drawers 
in  a  quick  business  style,  perfect  specimens  of  cottage 
and,  what  one  might  call,  toy  loaves  in  shape,  col- 
our, and  material.  The  roundness  and  proportion 
of  form  and  delicacy  of  colouring  were  as  a  work  of 
art.  The  sense  of  the  beautiful  was  stronger  in  the 
baker  s  shop  than  in  the  frescoes  of  the  large  church- 
As  we  did  not  look  like  buyers  for  a  family  circle  the 
discerning  young  monk  did  not  offer  us  any  of  the 
paterfamilias  loaves,  fair  two  pounders,  and  even 
larger.     We  were  contented  with  toy  specimens. 

Going  on  from  this  we  arrived  at  the  cathedral — 
the  famous  church  of  the  Trinity — the  Church  of  St. 
Serge.  Here  were  no  steps,  no  twisted  Byzantine  co- 
lumns, no  projecting  canopy,  no  raised  corridor;  the 
entrance  was  level  with  the  ground.  But  a  long  closed 
portico,  with  a  door  at  either  end,  was  in  front  of  the 

entrance. 

On  entering  one  of  the  doors  I  found  to  my  sur- 
prise that  all  along  the  side  of  the  portico  opposite  to 
the  entrance  into  the  church  was  a  high  broad  coun- 

y  2 


I 


324 


TRADE  IN  OIL  AND  TAPERS. 


A  LESSON  FOR  YOUNG  GIRI.S. 


325 


ter,  and  on  this  were  piles  of  wax  tapers,  and  jars 
and  cans  of  oil,  while  behind  it  were  three  or  four 
monks.     Here  was  another  shop,  and  evidently  doing 
a   very   considerable   busmess.      Reallv,  methou<^ht 
these  Troitsa  monks  are  wise  in  their  generation ;  they 
not  only  have  a  large  hotel  on  the  Place  outside  the 
gate,  but  they  have  a  number  of  active  trading  estab- 
lishments  inside.     At  the  great  gateway  I   now  re- 
membered a  notice  in  black  letters  on  a  white  board  to 
this   effect:— ^^n   the    Convent    are     sold    candles, 
images,  bread,  and  oil."     There  were  several  small 
lay  traders  with  their  stalls  out  on  the  Place  oifering 
the  same  wares  for  sale  ;  and  this  notice  of  the  monks 
appeared  to  be  intended  as  a  warning  to  pilgrims  to 
St.  Serge,  "  Don't  buy  out  there ;  all  these  things  are 
better  in  our  shop  inside."     It  did  look  a  little  grasp- 
ing, and  not  considerate  to  the  small  outsiders.     Now 
in  this  portico  were  people  coming  and  going  in  and 
out  of  the  church,  a  perpetual  movement,  and  as  they 
passed  through  it  many  of  them  stopped  to  buy  some- 
thing, a  taper  or  two,  or  some  oil,  which  they  carried 
away  in  little  bottles  brought  for  the  purpose.     The 
oil-buyers,     I    observed,    were     invariably    females. 
There  was  a  brisk  trade,  for  two  monks,  fine  large 
men,  were  kept  hard  at  work  handing  over  the  goods 


across  the  counter,  and  receiving  the  kopecks  in  pay- 
ment, while  another  had  a  desk  and  kept  account. 
The  monk  who  served  out  the  oil  was  a  remarkably 
fine,   tall,    and   handsome  man;    but    the  perpetual 
going  about  with  a  huge  can  of  lamp-oil,  filling  it 
from  large  jars,  and  then  dispensing  the  contents  into 
numerous  small-mouthed  bottles,  is  a  service  not  con- 
ducive  to  coolness  on  a  hot  summer  day,  nor  to  clean- 
liness of  dress  and  person.     The  monk  was  steaming 
with  heat,  and  glistening  with  oil  over  his  head  and 
hands  and  dress.     In  reply  to  my  inquiry  of  what  the 
women  and  girls  did  with  the  oil,  I  was  told  that 
they  buy  it  to  feed  the  lamps  always  burning  in  the 
churches  and  before  certain  shrines  and  images ;  and 
that  the  priests  teach  their  young  devotees  that  it  is  a 
very  meritorious  act  to  aid  in  keeping  a  lamp  alight. 
What  a  very  ingenious  little  lesson  for  the  youthful 
female  mind  !— Thus— my  dear  little  girl,  you  can  do 
your  soul  good  and  please  the  Virgin  by  making  an 
offering  of  holy  oil  to  keep  the  lamp  burning  before 
her  image,  or  the  shrine  of  St.  Serge  or  St.  Nicholas, 
as  the  case  may  be.     Imagine  how   many  children 
would  grow  up  with  that  idea  strong  in  their  minds, 
and  how  they  would  treasure  up  a  kopeck  or  two  con- 
tinually, and  spend  it  in  oil  in  the  portico,  and  go  to 


i 


326 


TOMB  OF  ST.  SERGE. 


THE  TREASURY. 


327 


the  priest  inside  and  have  it  blessed,  and  then  hand 
over  the  contents  of  the  little  bottle  to  the  oil-keeper 
with  an  entire  confidence  in  having  done  a  good  ac- 
tion.    What  a  life-long  sentiment  or  superstition  to 
the  child,  and  what  a  life-long  gain  of  money  to  the 
monk  and  his  fellows  I     I  could  not  help  thinking 
that  one  of  those  oil-jars  might  be  like  the  widow's 
cruse,  never  failing,— for  St.  Serge  must  have  a  quan- 
tity of  oil  offered  to  him  which  his  lamp  can  never 
consume,  and  what  so  natural  as  that  the  superfluity 
of  the  morning  oil  should  flow  back  steadily  into  that 
jar  in  an  evening  stream  ? 

This  famous  church  was,  it  must  be  said,  very  dirty, 
but  very  rich  in  pictures,  in  gold,  in  silver,  in  preci- 
ous stones,  in  lamps.     What  splendid  diamonds,  real, 
and  of  immense  size,  on  the  picture  of  the  Vu-gin,  and 
what  costly  lamps  before  the  tonib  of  St.  Serge  !     In 
front  of  this  latter,  which  is  composed  entirely  of  sil- 
ver, a  chaste  and  graceful  canopied  projection  from 
the  wall  at  one  end  of  the  Ikonostas,  hang  in  a  half- 
circle  a  row  of  lamps.    These  are  of  the  most  fanci- 
ful, varied,  and  elegant  forms.     There  are  perhaps 
ten  or  a  dozen,  and  each  is  an  offering  to  St.  Serge 
by  a  personage.     There  is  the  lamp  of  the  Emperor 
Nicholas,   and  one   presented   by  his   Empress,  one 


by  the  Grand  Duchess  Marie,  their  daughter,  one 
by  the  present  Emperor,  and  one  by  the  present  Em- 
press ;  then  there  is  one  of  the  little  Grand  Duke 
Serge,  named  after  the  Saint,  and  so  on.  They  are 
suspended  from  a  bow-shaped  bar  by  gold  chains,  and 
are  of  chased  gold,  set  with  precious  stones,  each  one 
an  exquisite  work  of  art.  One  of  the  most  rich  and 
of  most  delicate  workmanship  was  sent  anonymously. 
No  one  can  guess  who  was  the  sender.  The  church 
was  half  full  of  people.  It  was  small  for  a  cathedral, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  the  Ikonostas  and  its 
riches,  the  whole  interior  was  one  of  faded  finery  and 
worn-out  furniture.  The  Moscow  merchant !— what 
an  opportunity  for  him,  if  that  foolish  monk  had  but 
known  that  unasked-for  advice  is  a  device  of  Satan. 
We  heard  part  of  a  service,  the  noble  voices  of  the 
priests  pealing  grandly  through  the  building. 

From  this  we  went  to  the  Treasury.  This  is  a 
marvellous  collection  of  valuables.  Here  are  many 
rooms  filled  with  cases  of  garments,  ornaments, 
arms,  curious  works  of  art,  stuffs  heavy  with  gold, 
pearls,  or  precious  stones.  These  arms  and  gar- 
ments have  each  a  story,  the  wearers  of  them  hav- 
mg  been  some  Russian  sovereign,  potent  noble,  or 
captured  enemy  in  the  olden  time.     More  than  one 


328 


DINING  HALL  OF  THE  MONKS. 


THE  OFFICES. 


329 


il 


'1i 


of  the  cloaks  and  coats  were  thick  with  rows  and 
masses  of  pearls,  and  in  one  case  these  almost  con- 
cealed the  cloth  on  which  they  were  sewn.  This 
treasury  is,  however,  of  course,  a  modern  collection. 
There  is  nothing  in  it  that  can  be  correctly  termed 
antique. 

On  leaving  tlie  Treasury,  we  found  a  monk  idling 
about  in  one  of  the  courts,  so  we  enlisted  him  in  our 
service  as  explorers  of  the  non-religious  life  of  the 
convent.     Near  the  Trmity  Church  there  was  an  ex- 
tensive building,  long  and  moderately  lofty.    It  might 
be  a  large  hall,   or  it  might  be  a  fine  library.     The 
chief  and  principal  part  of  it  appeared  to  be  a  bel 
piano,  first  floor,  with  numerous  lofty  windows,  and 
without  any  attic  above  it.     Moreover,  it  was  painted 
all  over  on  its  outside  in  a  most  bizarre  style,  resem- 
bling nothing  so  much  as  the  dress  of  a  harlequin  or 
that  of  the  Pope's  guard  at  the  Vatican.     Mounting  a 
long  flight  of  steps  to  this  we  found  ourselves  in  a 
noble  hall— the  dining  hall  of  the  monks.     It  was 
empty  now.     It  wa^  a  grand  apartment,  with  painted 
walls  and  an  arched   ceiling,    and  the  far  end  was 
fitted  up  as  a  chapel,  railed  off  with  a  low  pretty  gilt 
iron  railing.     The  hall  could  not  have  been  less  than 
eighty  feet  in  length  exclusive  of  the  chapel,  and  its 


breadth   about   thirty-five.     Thre^  long  tables  with 
benches  extended  the  entire  length.     The  chapel  end 
was  clean  and  bright  with  gilding,  but  the  rest  of  the 
hall,  ceiling,  and  walls  would  have  benefited  much 
by  the  roubles  of  the  Moscow  merchant.     They  were 
thoroughly  dirty  and  faded,  a  marked  contrast  with 
the  chapel,  and  also  with  the  smart  and  fanciful  exte- 
rior.    However,  when  one  considers  that  some  four 
hundred  monks  sit  down  to  a  steaming  dinner  on 
most  days  in  that  rather  low-ceilinged  hall,  the  condi- 
tion of  the  walls  is  not  surprising.     In  a  small  square 
room  opening  into  the  hall  by  a  side  door,  and  hav- 
ing a  back  staircase,  were  a  few  tables  and  stools. 
This  was  the  room  for  late  comers  to  dinner.     These 
were  not  allowed  to  disturb  those  in  the  great  hall 
when  once  grace  had  been  sung  and  the  monks  were 
seated.     Going  down  the  back  staircase,  we  came  to 
the  ofiices — kitchen,  bakery,  and  other  places.    These 
were   all   arranged   under   the   great   hall.      But  it 
was  a  pain  to  see  the  utter  dirt  and  disorder  of  all 
this  part.     We  seemed  to  be  at  once  carried  back  to 
some  rude,  long-gone  time,  when  Rurik  reigned  at 
Moscow  and  Poles  beleaguered  Troitsa.     The  broken 
stair,  the  grass-grown  courts,  the  blackened  walls,  the 
crumbhng  brickwork,  the  neglect  and  the  ruin,  the 


330 


PRIMITIVE  HOSPITALITY. 


11 


soot-smeared  kitchen,  black  and  gloomy,  the  uncouth 
and  greasy  monks,  begrimed  of  face  and  hands  and 
dress — oh  for  the  Moscow  merchant ! 

However,  it  was  evident  that  the  recluses  did  not 
live  badly.     There  were  huge  coppers  for  the  daily 
soup  of  fish  and  vegetables,  and  there  was  an  exten- 
sive hot  plate,  which  told  a  tale  of  ingenious  cookery. 
Immense  circular  loaves  of  rye  bread,  brown  and 
wholesome,  stood  in  ranges  on  mighty  shelves,  two 
hundred   of    which    were    the    daily    consumption. 
''  But,"  said  one  of  the  cooks,  "  there  are  others  of 
wheat,  quite  white,  for  the  hospital  and  the  sick.''     It 
was   the   employment  of  eight   monks,   besides   the 
cooks,  every  day  to  make  this  rye  bread  for  the  gene- 
ral use.     Near  the  kitchen  was  the  bakery,  with  its 
vault-like  ovens,  and  beyond  this  w^as  a  dark  and  de- 
solate place,  a  rude  outhouse.     From  the  centre  of  it 
rose  substantial  and  blackened  posts,  on  which,  at 
seven  or  eight  feet  from  the  ground,  was  placed  a 
rough-hewn  platform  of  wood.     Leaning  against  this 
was  a  ladder,  the  only  method  of  reaching  it.     The 
platform  was  a  bed-room.     When  any  way-worn  pil- 
grims  arrived    at  Troitsa,   they  were   invited  to   sit 
down  on  some  rude  benches  by  the  wall  outside  of 
the  outhouse,  and  here,  beneath   a  plain  shelter  of 


THE    HOSPITAL. 


331 


boards,  they  were  furnished  with  soup  and  rye  bread 
from  the  kitchen.  If  they  desired  to  stay  for  a  night 
or  two  to  rest,  or  were  unwell,  they  could  climb  up 
the  ladder,  and  pass  the  night  on  the  platform,  where 
were  some  sacks.  It  was  a  primitive  hospitality ;  but 
then  beggars  must  not  be  choosers.  If  the  pilgrim 
was  really  ill,  he  was  put  into  the  hospital.  One 
poor  fellow  was  sitting  by  the  wall,  waiting  for  his 
soup,  and  was  going  to  pass  the  night  up  on  the  plat- 
form. However  rough  this  bedroom  might  be  it  was 
not  inferior,  methought,  to  the  general  and  much 
sought-for  bedrooms  for  the  ""  casuals  "  in  our  Lon- 
don refuges.  Anyhow,  at  Troitsa  the  '^  casual  "  had 
good  food  and  fresh  air. 

A  little  farther  on  was  the  hospital.  There  were 
two  or  three  rooms,  all  clean  and  fresh,  and  but  few 
sick  in  them.  As  we  looked  into  the  lower  room,  on 
the  ground-floor,  the  monk  said — *'  The  people  here 
are  all  dying ;  when  they  get  very  bad  upstairs,  and 
there  is  nothing  more  to  be  done  for  them,  they  are 
brought  down  here,  and  they  never  go  out  again." 

There  were  no  curtains  to  the  low  pallet  beds, 
which  were  ranged  along  the  wall,  clean  and  tidy. 
In  two  or  three  of  these  were  distinguishable  the 
human  forms  beneath  the  grey  coverlets,   still  and 


A 


332 


FOUND  DEAD. 


THE    GREEK  MONK. 


333 


f 


III 


composed,  the  heads  covered,  preparing  for  death. 
The  silent  chamber,  empty  of  everything  except  these 
beds  and  their  voiceless  tenants,  struck  one's  mind 
painfully  as  the  very  impersonation  of  abandonment. 
Here  were  no  kindly  nurses  hovering  about  with 
cordials,  as  in  the  Sheremaytieff  Hospice  in  Moscow. 
Belonging  to  no  one,  without  a  tie  to  any  of  those 
among  whom  he  had  passed  his  life,  the  monk,  a 
solitary  being,  his  inner  life  and  its  sorrows  a  secret 
to  all  but  his  Maker,  he  comes  here  at  last,  to  this 
still  chamber  and  this  pallet  bed,  and  without  one 
word  of  sympathy  for  his  ear,  without  a  claim  on  any 
one  for  affection,  he  shuts  out  the  world,  and  conceals 
the  eyes  which  no  one  cares  to  close,  beneath  the 
coverlet,  and  passes  away. 

"  They  are  often  found  dead  in  the  morning,"  said 
the  monk  with  us.  ''  A  brother  comes  round  at  inter- 
vals and  lifts  the  coverlet  during  the  day,  and  finds 
them  gone,  but  they  usually  die  at  night." 

We  asked  to  see  some  of  the  rooms  or  cells  of  the 
brothers.  These  appeared  to  be  scattered  all  over 
the  enclosure  in  the  numerous  buildings.  Passing 
the  hospital  we  went  up  a  broad  flight  of  steps  on  to 
the  paved  and  covered  walk  by  the  outer  wall.  What 
a  grand  promenade  it  was  !    We  entered  it  at  an  angle. 


and  here  on  one  hand  it  stretched  away  for  two  or 
three  hundred  yards,  level  and  orderly,  and  shaded 
and  cool,  and  then  on  the  other  hand  was  a  similar 
fine  and  imposing  length  of  way. 

"  In  the  worst  winters,"  said  the  monk,  ^'  when  the 
whole  country  is  white  and  deep  in  snow,  this  is  al- 
ways as  it  is  now ;  a  little  snow  blows  in  sometimes 
through  the  battlements,  but  it  is  soon  swept  away." 

As  we  walked  along  it  some  windows  of  buildings 
beyond  the  grassy  enclosure  were  open,  and  in  one 
of  these  was  a  canary  in  a  cage.  There  were  books, 
too,  on  shelves,  and  a  cheerful  coloured  paper  on  the 
walls.     I  pointed  these  out  to  the  monk. 

''  Oh !  yes,"  he  said,  ''  some  of  the  brethren  are  fond 
of  having  birds,  and  they  furnish  their  rooms  com- 
fortably if  they  choose  to  do  so." 

The  Greek  monk  is  not  devoted  to  absolute  poverty 
and  self-denial.  This  man,  with  his  books,  and  his 
canary,  and  his  Moscow  furniture,  and  with  a  certain 
liberty  to  come  and  go,  no  doubt  found  in  this  life 
a  charm,  as  do  their  Roman  brethren,  those  holy 
Sybarites,  the  Benedictines,  at  La  Cava  near  Naples, 
in  their  luxurious  monastery.  There  is  a  difference 
in  monk  life — a  difference  between  the  fanatic  in  his 
subterranean  cell  at  Gethsemane,  two  miles  off,  and 


334 


AN  OUBLIETTE. 


U 


P 


I 


this  man  fond  of  books  and  the  music  and  companion- 
ship of  a  canary.  What  friends,  methought,  that  man 
and  the  bird  must  be,  for  between  them  there  can 
be  sympathy  and  affection. 

There  was  a  tower  in  the  angle  of  the  broad  walk. 
We  went  up  the  winding  stair  and  found  at  the  top 
storey  a  wide  circular  space,  from  the  centre  of  which 
rose  some  massive  brickwork,  the  summit  of  the  round 
tower. 

'*  That  is  closed  up  now,"  said  the  monk,  pointing 
to  a  door,  "  it  is  nailed  up ;  there  is  a  room  in  there, 
and  all  below  it  to  the  bottom  is  hollow.  John  the 
Terrible  used  to  condemn  some  of  those  who  offended 
him  to  be  sent  to  Troitsa,  and  they  were  kept  here  as 
in  a  prison.  Sometimes  one  would  be  brought  and 
put  into  that  room,  and  the  door  locked — presently 
the  floor  would  sink,  and  then  the  man  went  down 
to  his  death." 

It  was  an  oubliette.  So  that  Troitsa,  the  Holy 
Troitsa,  was  not  sacred  in  the  eyes  of  the  Terrible 
Ivan.  Around  this  bloodstained  central  place,  this 
wall,  were  rooms  of  the  monks,  a  broad  passage  run- 
nmg  between  the  brickwork  and  the  cells.  Most  of 
the  doors,  five  or  six,  were  closed;  their  tenants  were 
in  them,  and  we  could  not  disturb  their  privacy.    But 


THE  MONKS    ROOM. 


335 


one  was  ajar,  and  our  guide,  peeping  in,  beckoned  us 
to  enter,  as  the  monk  was  gone  out.  It  was  a  con- 
siderable room,  perhaps  sixteen  feet  long,  but  of 
irregular  shape,  being  narrow  at  the  doorway,  and 
broad  by  the  window,  which  looked  out  over  the 
country  from  a  considerable  height — a  cheerful  airy 
room.  The  furniture  was  plain  and  neat — a  pallet 
bed,  a  couple  of  chairs,  a  picture  or  two  of  saints,  a 
table,  and  some  books.  It  had  a  homely  habitable 
look.  These  rooms,  however,  were  not  built  for 
telling  secrets,  for  they  were,  in  fact,  only  thin  wooden 
compartments,  occupying  the  outer  side  of  the  large 
circular  platform,  and  as  the  wooden  partitions  were 
only  about  eight  feet  high,  there  was  no  lack  of  circu- 
lation of  air,  nor  of  cold  in  a  Russian  winter,  while 
every  slightest  movement — the  rustle  of  a  cloak, 
the  creak  of  a  chair,  or  the  turning  of  the  page  of  a 
book — could  be  heard  by  the  neighbours,  through  the 
thin  boarding  or  over  the  top.  Secrets !  Probably 
every  poor  monk  has  a  secret — down  in  his  heart — the 
secret  of  his  life,  which  he  never  tells  and  never 
wishes  to  tell  to  anyone,  whether  the  boundaries  of 
his  cell  are  wooden  boards  or  brick  walls. 

We  went  along  the  covered  walk ;  and  here  and 
there  we  met  persons — now  some  solitary  papa  walk- 


336 


THE  ECCLESIASTICAL  ACADEMY. 


DYING  ALONE  AND  UNCARED  FOR. 


337 


n 


i 


M 


ing  slowly  and  absorbed  in  his  book,  his  long  hair 
curling  down  over  his  brown  silk  dress ;  and  then  a 
monk,  sauntering  idly  along  by  the  embattled  wall, 
now  and  then  leaning  in  one  of  the  embrasures 
and  gazing  long  and  fixedly  out  into  the  country — 
perhaps  with  mind  and  heart  far  away.  Then  we 
came  by  the  palace,  built  by  Peter,  now  occupied  by 
the  Ecclesiastical  Academy,  and  the  principal  seat  of 
priestly  instruction  in  Russia.  This  large  and  hand- 
some building  stands  just  within  the  great  wall,  and 
so  here  were  knots  of  two  and  three  students,  young 
men  of  the  upper  classes,  in  eager  conversation  as 
they  walked  along  the  shaded  way.  More  than  once 
we  came  upon  a  solitary  student,  doubled  up  in  an 
embrasure  with  book  in  hand — his  place  of  study  for 
the  nonce.  Then  we  met  little  parties  of  visitors  to 
Troitsa  like  ourselves,  and  also  monks  enjoying, 
apparently,  a.  constitutional  walk. 

Thus  the  Troitsa  convent  is  a  little  world  in  itself. 
There  are  gorgeous  buildings  and  decaying  offices ; 
there  are  splendours  of  hoarded  wealth  and  the  plain- 
ness of  poverty;  imposing  ceremonies  of  religion,  and 
careful  money-making ;  treasuries  and  shops ;  students 
and  idlers;  learning  and  ignorance;  men  of  grand  pre- 
sence,   noble   stature,    and  abounding  health,   glori- 


ous in  youth  and  beauty ;  and  there  are  poor  decrepit 
creatures,  without  hope  or  object  in  this  world,  dying, 
alone  and  uncared  for,  without  a  friend  to  close  their 
eyes. 


338 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Administration  of  Justice -Bribery  in  some  cases  Discountenanced— 
Tlie  Bureaucracy— Causes  of  the  Low  Morale  of  Public  Officials- 
Insufficient  Salaries— No  Public  Opinion— Frequenters  of  the  Hotel 
Dusaux— A  Sign  of  the  Times— The  Levelling  Process— Language 
of  the  Upper  Classes  -Intolerance  at  the  Opera— Native  Literature 
—The  Works  of  Lermontoff,  Pouchkine,  &c— Growth  of  National 
Sentiment— Serfdom  and  Freedom— New  State  of  Things— Rise  of  a 
National  History,  Drama,  Fiction,  and  Music. 

/^NE  day  I  was  sitting  at  dinner  in  one  of  the  pub- 
^^     lie  rooms  of  my  hotel  with  a  party  of  Russian 
gentlemen.     The  subject  of  conversation  was  the  ad- 
ministration of  justice  in  the  courts  of  law.     I  ob- 
served that  I  had  that  day  visited  the  public  courts  in 
the  Kremlin,  but  unfortunately  had  found  them  closed, 
as  it  was  holiday-time.     One  of  those  present  said  he 
should  have  been  glad  if  I  could  have  witnessed  some 
of  their  procedure,  "  for,"  said  he,  "  we  are  but  be- 
ginners  m  anything  like  law,  whereas  you  English 
are  a  people  of  law.     We  are  but  children,  and  have 
everything  to  learn." 


REFUSAL  OF  BRIBES. 


339 


I  said  I  had  heard  that  there  was  a  great  desire  on 
the  part  of  the  magistracy  at  Moscow  to  act  impar- 
tially in  their  office,  and  that  one  proof  was  they  were 
refusing  all  bribes. 

"  We  are  getting  on,"  he  said  ;  '^  some  of  our  new 
magistrates  are  really  good  men ;"  and  he  related  a 
case  within  his  own  knowledge  where  a  gentleman, 
thinking  he  could  bribe  the  magistrates  as  in  the  olden 
times,  had  been  himself  heavily  fined  for  the  offence 
of  offering  the  bribe,  and  kept  under  durance  till  the 
fine  was  paid,  immensely  to  his  astonishment. 

Another  of  the  party  observed  on  this,  that  though 
there  were  cases  where  this  might  be  true,  they  were 
exceptional ;  the  old  state  of  things  hanging  about  our 
people  and  offices  too  much  yet.  And  he  went  on 
to  say,  ''  My  opinion  is  that  if  a  man  were  to  kill  ano- 
ther here  in  the  open  daylight  in  the  middle  of  this 
street  there  would  be  a  tremendous  hubbub  about  it 
for  a  time,  but  if  he  had  a  clever  lawyer  and  plenty 
of  money  he  would  escape  all  punishment." 

On  my  subsequently  mentioning  this  to  an  acquaint- 
ance, his  remark  was, 

''I  have  no  doubt  he  was  right,  for  the  bureaucracy 
of  this  country  are  so  wretchedly  paid  by  the  Go- 
vernment, that  they  must  get  money  somehow  inde- 

z  2 


340 


FREQUENTERS  OF  THE  HOTEL  DUSAUX. 


pendently  of  their  office  to  support  their  expensive 
way  of  living ;  and  they  must  be  more  than  men  who 
would  refuse  a  heavy  sum  to  let  off  any  man,  what- 
ever he  had  done.  Besides/'  he  added,  "  what  pub- 
lic opinion  is  there  to  bear  on  them? — none;  and 
what  public  spirit  in  fovour  of  real  justice  and  law 
can  there  be  in  a  people  hitherto  corrupted  in  an  ex- 
treme degree  by  serfdom,  by  bribery  in  all  the  offices 
of  state,  by  general  profligacy,  and  the  all  but  irre- 
sponsible power  of  the  nobles  over  their  serfs  ?  The 
spirit,  the  habits  of  a  people  cannot  change  rapidly 
from  bad  to  good." 

Presently  the  subject  of  conversation  changing  at 
the  dinner  table,  I  observed  two  men  enter  the  room 
and   after   nmch   whispering   together    and    looking 
round  in  a  timid  and  hesitating  manner,  seat  them- 
selves at  a  neighbouring  table.     These  rooms  of  the 
Hotel  Dusaux  were  as  a  rule  frequented  only  by  per- 
sons of  a  certain  class.     They  were  either  officers  of 
the  Army,  Russian  gentlemen  and  their  wives,  mer- 
chants of  the  upper  grades,  or  foreigners  and  tra- 
vellers, but  all  of  them  having  the  air  and  manners  of 
people  of  a  certain  social  standing.     But  these  two  men 
were  different.    They  were  of  spare  and  tall  figure,  with 
thin  faces  and  pointed  features,  and  their  dress  was 


A  SIGN  OF  THE  TIMES. 


341 


that  of  the  Russian  native  of  the  smaller  shopkeeper 
class,  the  long  black  boots,  black  waistcoat,  and 
long  loose  upper  coat  marking  them  as  of  that  con- 
dition. Their  manners  and  appearance  were  so  un- 
usual in  these  rooms  that  I  pointed  them  out  to  one 
of  my  neighbours. 

*'  What  are  those  men  ?"  said  I. 
He  turned,  looked  long  and  steadily  at  them,   and 
then  said, 

"  That  is  a  sign  of  the  times  we  are  living  in.  This 
is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  seen  men  of  that  class  in 
these  rooms.  A  short  time  ago  those  men  would 
not  have  dared  to  come  here,  but  now  the  citizen 
class  are  pushing  themselves  up  where  they  never 
were  before ;  and  it  is  very  natural,  for  they  are  free 
to  do  as  they  like,  and  many  of  them  are  rich." 

"  You  are  only  beginning  to  do  here,"  said  I, 
"  what  we  liave  been  doing  for  years ;  and  levelling  is 
going  on  in  all  countries  rapidly." 

"  Well,"  said  Count  L ,  "  I  think  it  is  all  right 

that  people  should  be  free  ;  and  though  sometimes 
there  are  things  which  are  novel  and  which  rather 
shock  one  s  old  habits,  yet  I  am  sure  this  change  is  all 

for  the  best." 

I  observed  that  there  was  one  thing  which  much 


342 


LANGUAGE  OF  THE  SALON. 


surprised  me,  that  whereas  in  England  we  had 
learned  that  in  the  upper  Russian  society  the  lan- 
guage of  the  country  was  rarely  if  ever  spoken  among 
themselves,  and  that  French  and  German,  but  princi- 
pally the  former,  were  the  common  languages  of*  the 
salon,  this  seemed  by  no  means  to  be  the  case,  all  the 
Russians,  frequenters  of  these  rooms,  speaking  their 
native  language. 

"  It  is  quite  true,"  he  replied,  "  there  is  a  great 
change  within  these  few  years  in  this  respect.  For- 
merly it  was  considered  fashionable  to  converse  iu 
French,  and  people  even  pretended  not  to  know 
much  of  Russian  ;  it  was  considered  low  and  com- 
mon, the  language  of  the  serfs ;  but  now  we  all  talk 
Russ  everywhere — in  fact,  we  are  becoming  national. 
Hitherto  we  have  been  almost  like  two  peoples,  mas- 
ters and  serfs,  with  different  languages,  different  habits, 
different  ideas ;  but  now  we  are  becommg  one  people 
in  all  ways,  and  in  some  things  we  are  getting  to  be 
intensely  national." 

I  alluded  to  a  new  opera  being  played  at  the  great 
Moscow  theatre,  in  which  much  of  the  action  takes 
place  in  Poland,  and  of  which  the  music  was  Russian, 
and  the  performers  also  natives. 

"Ah  !  yes,"  said  he,  "  a  little  time  ago,  when  that 


A  FURIOUS  NATIONALITY. 


343 


piece  first  came  out,  the  audience  were  so  enraged  at 
the  sight  of  the  Polish  costumes  on  the  stage  that 
they  hissed  and  shouted  and  would  not  allow  the 
opera  to  go  on ;  and  they  positively  afterwards  in- 
sisted that  the  Polish  scenes  should  be  omitted,  which 
of  course  spoiled  the  whole  thing.  Now  they  have 
become  a  little  more  tolerant,  and  allow  it  all  to  be 
played  through  ;  but  a  few  years  ago  the  whole  piece 
would  have  been  played  as  a  matter  of  course,  the 
Poles  unnoticed.     Now  there  is  a  new  spirit  alive." 

I  said  I  thought  they  avenged  themselves  for  this 
toleration  by  their  national  anthem  at  the  end — five 
times  had  the  people  called  for  that  anthem  on  the 
previous  night  when  I  had  been  present. 

''  A  furious  nationality,"  said  the  Count,  laughing. 

Another  of  the  party  alluded  to  the  native  litera- 
ture, which  was  beginning  to  be  more  appreciated 
generally  in  the  country. 

"  Till  lately,"  he  said,  "  the  common  reading  in 
families  has  been  of  books  from  France,  England, 
and  Germany,  and  of  these  there  were  so  many 
and  so  good,  that  few  cared  to  inquire  if  there  was 
any  native  literature.  If  anyone  called  attention  to 
Gogol  or  Lermontoff,  people  would  say,  '  Oh  !  it  is 
only  Russian,' — the  language  and  the  writers  in  it 


344 


NATIVE  LITERATURE. 


were  equally  contemned ;  but  now  we  find  that  there 
are  writers  of  fiction  in  Russ  besides  the  historians 
Karamzin  and  SoloviefF,  that  their  productions  are 
fully  equal,  in  many  respects,  in  imagination  and  in 
power  of  detail,  to  those  of  many  French  and  English 
writers,  though,  of  course,  inferior  to  your  best." 

I  said  that  I  had  found  at  a  library  in  the  town  a 
number  of  the  works  of  native  authors  translated  into 
French — works  of  considerable  ability  in  the  world 
of  fiction,  by  authors  such  as  Tourgueneff  and  Pouch- 
kine,  and  others. 

''  If  you  have  not  read  a  work  by  Pouchkine,"  said 
one  of  the  party,  ''  called  ^  A  Society  of  Gentlefolks 
in  the  Country,'  you  should  get  it ;  it  made  quite  a 
sensation  in  Russian  society  when  it  appeared,  about 
five  or  six  years  ago.  No  one  knew  that  we  had  a 
writer  capable  of  such  a  production  until  it  appeared." 

I  had  not  then  read  the  story  mentioned.  Various 
other  autliors  were  named — Stcherbina,  KrilofF,  and 
Griboyedoif.  All  this  was  only  further  proof  of  the 
growing  sentiment  of  nationality  among  the  Russian 
people — of  a  growing  appreciation  of  native  talent. 

So  long  as  there  existed  the  great  division  of  the 
nation  into  master  and  slave,  each  body  using  in  a 
manner  a  different  language,  and  therefore  conveying 


SERFDOM  AND  FREEDOM. 


345 


along  two  distinct  streams  different  ideas  on  life  and 
society,   there  could  grow  up  no  real  community  of 
feeling  or  opinion  between  these   two  great  bodies. 
Wliatever  some  authors  may  have  written  with  the 
attempt  to  show  that  the   Russian  serf  was  not  a 
slave,    and    that    his    dependence    secured    to    him 
more   advantages   than   would    his    liberty,   yet,    of 
course,   in  the  present  condition  of  thought  in   the 
world,    it   is   but   waste   of  words  to  show  that  all 
such  argument  is  a  fallacy.     It  is  but  waste  of  words 
to   assert    that   the   few   small    and    merely  physi- 
cal advantages  to  the  person  under  slavery  or  serf- 
dom, coupled  with  degradation  of  mind,  are  worth 
more  than  all  the  higher  and  mental  advantages  of 
freedom,  with  all  its  inspiring  power,  its  originality  of 
thought,  and  its  energy  of  action.     Again  it  is  but  a 
waste  of  words  to  show  that  a  despotic  power  of  man 
over  man   is  not  an  injury  to  the  moral  nature  of 
the  master  as  of  the  slave ;  for  as  a  limited  power 
obliges   the    master    to   balance   with    himself  the 
question  of  justice  and  equity,  and  so  allows  these 
higher   sentiments   to   find   entrance    into   his  mind 
and  to  purify  and  strengthen  it  even  by  their  very 
presence,  so  an  unlimited  power  appeals  by  its  na- 
tural influence  to  the  lower  passions,  and  not  to  the 


346 


NATIONAL  PROGRESS. 


higher  sentiments — to  the  passion  of  fear  and  the  love 
of  dominating,  to  selfishness  and  to  force,  and  not  to  the 
sentiment  of  charity,  of  moderation,  and  of  considera- 
tion for  others. 

But  with  the  new  state  of  things  has  burst  into  ac- 
tion a  new  appreciation  of  Russian  thought,  of  Rus- 
sian ability,  of  Russian  nationality.  Thus  a  national 
drama  and  a  national  music  are  taking  their  place  as 
parts  of  the  great  social  life  of  the  country,  and  works 
of  history,  such  as  those  by  Solovieff  and  Polevoi ;  of 
drama,  such  as  those  of  Ozeroff ;  and  of  fiction,  as  by 
Pouchkine  and  Lermontoff,  are  asserting  their  claim 
to  an  honourable  place  for  the  Russian  language  in 
the  literature  of  Europe. 


THE  END. 


LONDON  :    PRINTED  BT  MAGDONALD  JLND  TUQWELL,  BLSK&XIM  H0U8X. 


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